Where the Wild Things Are
by goblinesque
Summary: The Australian Outback isn't for the faint of heart. Only the strong and wild survive the elements and the murderer that uses the land as his hunting grounds. Crime never pays and karma has a way of coming back. Something wicked floats in the Australian air when a group kidnaps a politician's daughter & breaks down in his line of fire.
1. The Governor's Daughter

**Chapter 1: The Governor's Daughter**

**Yay! There's finally a Wolf Creek section! **

**As always, I don't own any characters but my own!**

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The sun was closing in on its daily performance, only a few hours remained of daylight until the bright moon would overtake the vast, lonely land of the Australian Outback. The old extended cab pick-up truck spun into the old gas station that doubled as a bar for weary men that traversed the arid land. Two men jumped out of the back of the truck, unaware that a hunter watched them carefully from inside the bar, while two other men pulled up to the gas station to fill their truck up.

The leader of the group, Jackie Johnson, slammed the driver door closed as loud as he could. A small scratch cut across his cheek from where his stolen prize had lashed out at him before they had learned that she was better manageable under the influence of morphine. The tall man of twenty-seven wore a stained white wife beater and simple black slacks. Sunglasses sat upon his long, bent nose that would remind a person with significant pop culture knowledge of Owen Wilson. Swastikas and racial tattoos danced upon his tight, tanned, muscular biceps. His younger brother Johnny, similar in looks, pulled himself out of the bed of the truck along with their longtime partner in crime, Brent Tyler.

Johnny Johnson was the rocker of the family. His hair was dyed black and he was lanky. ICP tattoos danced up his forearm, the words FUCK were tattooed across his knuckles on his left hand and HEAD on the other. He had looked up to his brother his entire life.

Brent Tyler had been their longtime friend. He'd been in jail multiple times for drug possession with intent to sell while in med school in California where he'd found that he enjoyed life looking as if he lived out on the beach. He looked to be the stereotypical Cali beach boy from an old 80s teen TV show. He had a slight twitch that would occur when he had forgotten to take his medicine or when his paranoia would get the better of him. The drugs, he had learned, had helped fight off those paranoid feelings.

"Last gas station for a while," Jackie announced with a large smile, he held a faint hint of a stereotypical Australian accent, "if you gotta take a shit, you better do it now because I ain't stopping until we get to-"

"Is she going to be okay out here," the soft voice of the man that had rode in the passenger seat asked as he looked to the blonde woman that lay unconscious in their back seat.

"Bitch is going to be fine," Jackie said as he looked to Milton Esparza, their unwilling, chunky participant in their crime.

Milton Esparza had been the one put in charge of making sure the girl stayed alive. The married man from Cuba had been put in charge of keeping Jessica Muldoon, the only daughter of the Alabama governor, from hurting them or herself. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looked to the ground in shame as he thought of the role he played in kidnapping her and allowing the abuse to continue longer than it should have.

"Did you shoot her up again," Johnny asked Brent as they walked towards the store.

"Yeah bro," Brent answered with his practiced beach bum accent, "She's out for a few more hours."

"We'll go in and get a drink before we go on," Jackie informed the group, he turned to Milton and ordered, "You can come on in with us. She's out. She ain't going anywhere, Milt. Enjoy yourself!"

The group of men left Jessica alone in the truck as they entered the dark and cool bar. Dirty men sat at tables and drunk their chosen sins as they spoke inappropriately of women, of the damned weather, and the dirty tourists that were flocking into their country. A television stood above the bar where several other men, including Mick Taylor, sat with cold beers in hand.

"Four beers," Jackie demanded of the lanky sister of the store owner who was busy trying to unclog the toilets in the back. He gave her a smile as he swatted at a flying pest that buzzed by his ear. Flies flew around the bar and landed upon old newspaper clippings of UFO sightings, dingo attacks, and missing travelers, along with a head line about a farmer getting lost on his own property.

Milton felt uncomfortable as he sat at the bar beside a man clad in red flannel and an old, dusty cowboy hat. He could smell the sweat that radiated from the men that inhabited the bar.

"We're back," the talking head on the television announced, "and we are still talking about the disappearance of Jessica Muldoon, the daughter of Alabama's governor."

Milton jerked his head up to the television and his eyes bugged out slightly as he took in the photograph of their captive. She was smiling in her picture. Her blonde hair seemed white in the bright sunlight, her eyes were the lightest shade of green, and her smile was bright as she held a baby hyena cub in her arms. A white cowboy hat kept the sun out of her eyes.

"Jessica Muldoon, a native to South Africa, has been reported missing by her father who had paid for her holiday in Australia after a series of unfortunate events occurred within the reserve that the Muldoon family works at," the reporter announced, "Sources have confirmed that she was approached by several men that have been caught on camera in front of a popular bar in Sydney. It has not been confirmed if this is considered a ransom attempt or not. Authorities are imploring for anyone with information to come forward."

"Shit," Brent whispered and looked to Jackie as he sucked down his beer, "It's already on TV! Our faces are gonna be everywhere! They've got the technology to do that shit! I'm tellin' you man! They know we got her!"

"Shut up Brent," Johnny hissed into his friend's ear as he looked up to the television.

Mick Taylor looked up at the television after overhearing the young man's worried tone. The woman's photograph flashed once more alongside her father's.

"Alabama governor was given grief, and almost lost the election, because of the discovery of a child out of wedlock that had not been born inside of the United States," another anchor informed his viewing audience, "The two have been seen together only a few times. It seems that the family bond isn't as strong when an ocean needs to be crossed."

Mick smirked as he made his way out of the small bar and towards his own truck. He pulled his truck beside theirs and pretended to get gas. He peered into the back of the car where he could see the bruised face of the unconscious girl from South Africa. She was beaten, but she still resembled the beauty in the photograph. Her hands were bound together by plastic ties; he could see the black outline of a tattoo on her right wrist but he could not make out what it was. Her lip had been busted from a fight and he could see blood caked under her nails from clawing at her captors like a wild cat. Her white button up dress fell at her mid-thigh where blood stained her skin. Her cowboy boots were scuffed as if she had tried to fight them off of her when the attack first occurred.

He looked away from her and to the environment around him with powerful, observant eyes that could send a shiver down a crocodile's spine. He smiled as wicked thoughts filled his mind. He leaned down, hidden away from spying eyes, and removed the air cap on the back tire. They wouldn't notice the leak until it was too late and he would arrive willing to escort them.

He hopped back into his truck with a knowing laugh.

He'd found his next big game to hunt.

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**Short chapter, I know, but I hope you are interested! Reviews make me unbelievably happy and keep me motivated! I have the outline ready for this story, but I'm always changing things here and there! Your input is always great in polishing the outline :)**


	2. Spare Tires

**Chapter 2: Spare Tires**

Jessica felt her body jerk forward as the car jolted across the road. The tire was completely flat and she could hear her kidnappers cursing as the car came to a complete stop. Her empty stomach rumbled from hunger as she slowly regained consciousness. A bitter taste filled her mouth from days and days of going without brushing her teeth. Beads of sweat fell down her forehead as she kept still in the back seat. The doors of the truck slammed and she could hear the men arguing. She groaned involuntarily as she tried to stretch out on the back seat.

"What the fuck are we going to do," Jackie billowed as he glared at the flat tire, "Who the fuck gets a truck that doesn't have a fucking spare?!"

"Dude, Jackie, calm down," Brent said as he looked around, "We'll figure this out. Someone will come along."

Jackie looked around them. They were in the middle of nowhere, thirty miles away from the gas station that they had left.

"And what do we tell them when we have the girl tied up in the back hmm," Jackie asked the whacked out kid.

"We can kill them and take their car," Johnny suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

"No," Milton said as he made his way back to the passenger side door, "I didn't sign up for killing anyone. I just did this to repay my debt. Ain't none of this right anymore! This is God telling us that-"

"Then you can fucking walk," Jackie yelled at the aged Cuban, "You haven't done nothin' for this group, but fucking bitch!"

"I kept the girl alive," Milton informed him bitterly, "If it wasn't for me, you would have already killed her."

"Then you," he stopped and looked towards the backseat and smirked, "That bitch did this," he shook his head at how trusting he had been, "She-"

"She was drugged out of her mind," Milton said in defense of the girl and stepped between Jackie and the truck to keep him away from her.

"You better move over Jalapeño or I'll," Jackie started to say before Brent stopped him from shoving Milton to the ground.

"He's right," Brent said in defense of Milton, "I gave her a big dose of morphine. That bitch was out the entire time!"

Jackie took in what his friend said and then looked to the ground to collect his anger that had slipped from his grasp. The wind blew around them; dust flew across the deserted road. They were stranded in the middle of nowhere. His jaw quivered slightly as he thought over their options.

"Okay," he said slowly, his voice more controlled, as he looked over to the group of men that he was in control of, "We'll do what Johnny says. If no one shows up, then we start walking back to the gas station."

Jackie opened the door and looked at Jessica. Her eyes slowly opened and she groaned ever so softly at the sight of him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his small pocket knife and cut the plastic ties from her wrists.

"Come on," he said as he carefully pulled her from the back seat. He chuckled as her battered and bruised body fell to the ground. Blood seeped out of her tanned skin from her knees. Tiny rocks bit into the flesh of her exposed knees as she tried to pull herself away from them.

"Now you be a good little girl," Jackie informed her as he pulled her to her feet. She wobbled on her boots as the drug still moved through her system, "Here, keep her up."

Jackie shoved her to Milton and moved towards the back of the truck to examine the flat tire at a closer angle. Johnny and Brent spoke under their breath about the ransom money that they were expecting from her father for her safe return.

The falling sun burned like wild fire in the darkening sky. Shades of red, orange, and light pink formed in the sky like a beautiful painting as the small group stood beside their broke down truck. No one had come by while they waited. It had only been half an hour of waiting and the men felt their hope fading. None of them wanted to make the long trek back to the bar.

"Look," Johnny announced, breaking the silence that had formed between them all, "Is that a car?"

A sparkle moved across the road at a quick speed, barreling towards them. A truck came into sight and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Brent waved his hands as the truck moved closer and closer towards them. They could all see the outline of a man in a hat that was the proud owner of the white flatbed truck.

Jessica opened her weak eyes slightly as she spied the slowing truck. A shiver run down her spine and a bubble of hope rose in her empty stomach as she watched the truck come to a stop. She know had a way to escape the group of men that held her hostage in hopes of money that she knew her biological father would never send for her return. She felt anger bubble inside of her as she thought of the governor that was supposed to be her father. He was sitting in his big house in all the luxury that he could wish for while she was standing in the middle of nowhere with a bruises all over her body from the beatings that she had received.

"What are we going to tell him about the girl," Milton asked as he looked at her bruised skin, "We can't just kill him. There's no room in that truck for all of us. He can just tow us."

"What the bloody hell are you buggers doin' out here," the owner of the truck asked as he made his way towards them, his hat hid his predatory gaze as he took in the beaten woman and her captors, "Ya scared the shit out of me."

The Australian's voice, almost comically stereotypical, sounded like a voice of an angel as she begrudgingly leaned against Milton, the one man that had not laid a violent hand upon her. Her bright green eyes lingered on the man in the flannel shirt and cowboy hat. She couldn't make out his face, but she was thanking whoever created her for sending him to her rescue.

"We were just on our way back from Wolf Creek," Jackie lied like a pro as he pointed towards Jessica, "We were going to stay the night there, but Milt's girl took a spill…and now we have a flat tire."

Mick Taylor smiled knowingly as he took in the drugged girl. Her noticeably green eyes were weak as she silently pleaded for help. Her head lolled against the Cuban's shoulders as he held her up.

"That's your little Sheila," Mick asked with feigned astonishment and a friendly chuckle as he looked her over. Her well-toned, tan legs seemed to run for miles, "Where'd you find her at?"

Milton forced a smile at the man's question and replied with forced casualty, "Just lucky I guess."

Mick laughed at the answer and pointed at him, "Just lucky, ay," he continued laughing as he looked over to Jackie who was watching him with careful eyes, "Micks like us got to work for ours and he just gets lucky."

"Can you please help me," Jessica cried with a deep breath as she felt her legs shake. Her head burned from the approaching headache that was forming. She ignored the fear that bubbled inside of her at the repercussions of what could happen to her because of the plea. She wasn't finished fighting with her captors yet, they may have found a way to subdue her but she was still a daughter of South Africa and wouldn't stop fighting for her life.

Jackie glared at Milton as anger flashed over his face. He quickly hid the emotion as the flannel wearing Aussie looked her over.

"You say she took a spill," Mick asked as he took in her bruises and busted lip once again.

"That's what I said," Jackie answered defensively as he walked towards Milton and Jessica.

Milton glared at Jackie and then back to Mick as he asked with slight worry hinting within his voice, "You think you could give us a lift? We got a flat and we don't have a spare. I'd really like to get her home and rested. We have a little money that we can give you if you-"

Mick chuckled and waved off the suggestion, "Ah no worries. I'll get ya all on your way. I don't have a spare with me, but I got one back at me camp."

"How far is your camp," Johnny asked as he looked over to his brother and back to the hunter.

"Couple minutes from here," he lied just as Jackie had done previously as he sniffed at the air.

"What do you think J," Johnny asked of his older brother.

Jackie looked over the man and then to his empty flatbed truck and nodded. He sighed inwardly as he wondered why no one in the middle of fucking nowhere had a spare god damned tire!

Mick smiled as he watched his prey fall into his trap just like all the rest had done previously. He clapped his hands together and pointed at the girl.

"She'll ride up front with me," Mick informed them dryly. He licked at the bottom of his lip and watched in glee as the men began to look at each other, wondering if he knew about her.

"No, she'll ride in the truck with us," Jackie informed Mick with a firm, authoritative tone.

"I'm just sayin' that it's a smoother ride in my truck than being lugged around on the back end," Mick explained as if he were truly a good Samaritan who was concerned about her comfort, "I'm just thinkn' about her and in her condition. It may be better."

"No, she's going to-"

"She's my girlfriend," Milton interrupted him, anger slipping in his voice, "and I want her to have an easy ride," he glared at Jackie in a silent warning for him to not screw this up too, "she's had a rough trip as it is. She doesn't need it to be any harder."

Milton shoved passed Jackie and Johnny and helped her into the stranger's truck. He noticed the hunting rifle sitting behind the seat, but did not give it a second thought as he buckled her in and promised her that she nothing else was going to happen to her.

"Get in the truck Milt," Jackie demanded as they piled into the broken down pickup. Milton shut the door and left the woman in the capable hands of Mick Taylor who was getting the supplies from the back of his truck to pull them.

Jessica waited, her breathing coming in long intervals from the morphine, for her soon to be savior to whisk her away from the monsters. She'd never needed the hero to save her, but with a constant injection of morphine, she needed someone to ward off those injections until she was physically strong once again. Her lids were heavy as she waited for him to come back and start the truck. She needed to stay awake so she could tell him who she was and what had happened to her.

She watched through tired eyes as she leaned against the door. The cool metal soothed her headache as he jumped into his truck and started it. The truck shook and roared back to life and he smiled at his newly found prey that lay against his door. He watched her eyes close as she began to slip into unconsciousness once again before she could admit to him her situation.

It was always his favorite part when they fell into his clutches with trust. No one ever denied a good Samaritan. It was hit or miss when pretending to be crippled, but being the man with a good heart always found him a handful of targets. It was like the old saying went: _You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar._

The truck yanked forward suddenly as the chain pulled the others behind them. Her slight moan caught his attention and he looked at her closely. Her nostrils flared and her brows furrowed as if she were having a bad nightmare.

"Daddy," she whispered under her breath before she jerked out of the blackness that had engulfed her. She looked around her and took in the incoming darkness that was overcoming the land, only a pale light covered the land. An old Merle Haggard song, _That's the Way Love Goes,_ played on the radio; she could hear him humming along to the sound of the beautiful song that her father had once taught her to two step to when she had visited. She felt eyes on her and she turned to see him glancing over her bruised flesh with a carefully placed smile painted his features.

"My name," she started to say and swallowed the hard knot in her throat, her accent was the less conspicuous English accent of South Africa (if Mick wasn't carefully attuned to the different accents, he could have mistaken her for an Aussie), "is Jessica Muldoon," she paused as she looked at him with a pleading look in her bright green eyes, her blonde hair fell slightly in her face as she looked up at his hawk like eyes, "My father…these men have kidnapped me and are going to kill me if I don't get away from them," tears pricked at the sides of her eyes but she controlled her tired emotions, "please help me."

Mick laughed at her and she felt as if the color from her face drained out of her body and onto the floor board at that cruel sound.

"Of course I know who you are," he informed her as if she had insulted his intelligence, "Your mug is all over the TV! Only a bloody moron wouldn't remember a face like yours!"

"Please," she begged with a deep breath, "get me away from them."

"Who you think took the plug from their truck," he asked as he showed her the tire plug that he had stashed in his shirt pocket, "I'm gonna promise you that you don't have to worry 'bout them blokes hurting you ever again, Jessica."

A shiver rippled through her as he said her name with his accent. It felt alien to her to hear, though she had heard her name being said by virtually the same accented men many times before. It felt wrong in her ear.

"I'm so hungry. I haven't eaten since they took me from the bar," she whispered as her stomach rumbled as if she had rehearsed it. She felt the drugs fading as she watched the dry landscape pass by quickly.

Mick handed her his flask of whiskey that he kept in his back pocket, "It's not exactly water, but it will wet your whistle," he pointed to the console, "There's a bag of chips in there if ya want 'em."

She took a long swig from his flask. The amber liquid burned as it moved down her throat and into her empty stomach. She could taste the subtle hint of honey in the liquor and she felt the warmth radiate through her body as she looked the scratched flask over. She leaned forward and pulled the rumpled bag of potato chips out and devoured them, not thinking of modesty and politeness in the man's presence. She had been starved for almost a week.

"Thank you," she said between bites as she handed him back his flask.

Mick smiled at her words. She wouldn't be thanking him for long. Especially when she'd be too busy trying to run for her life with no idea what dangers lurked in the Outback.

...

Jackie groaned in anger as they continued down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. He held his gun in his hand, silently contemplating on how he would kill Milton and the dirty Australian. He knew the little bitch was telling him everything, and he wasn't able to do anything to shut her up. He felt the truck slowing to stop and a sign came into view in the darkness.

"He's going to fix the car and then I'm going to fix him," Jackie informed his group. He shoved his pistol into the back of his pants as the truck came to a stop in what seemed to be an abandoned mining camp.

"Dude, this looks creepy," Brent said as he looked out the window to the strange shadows that cast upon the ground. He stepped out of the car first and made his way to the Aussie's truck to pull Jessica out.

"Yo man," Brent asked as the group followed behind him, "You live here?"

"Oh," Mick said as he looked around with a proud smile at the place that he had chosen as his victim's final resting place, "I get around."

"This place is pretty badass," Brent informed him as he pulled Jessica away from her savior. She tried to fight him, but he held her tight.

"Stop playin'," Jackie yelled at her and jerked her away from Brent and held her close to him. His fingers bit into her forearm, he left white marks on her as she continued to struggle in his grip. Jackie pulled his gun from its hiding place and pointed it at her temple.

"Now," he asked harshly as he let go of her arm and wrapped his hand into her hair, twisting her blonde locks through his dirty fingers, "You gonna stop playing or are we going to have to get rough again?"

Jessica held in the sob that wanted to escape her as her weak body remained in his grip. Her eyes glared up at him, blaming him for everything. She could see the understanding fill his eyes as he met hers.

"Now listen kiddo," Mick announced with a raised brow and a simple shake of his hand, "the little bitch told me all about your situation. Hell," he laughed that laugh that seemed to come from the devil himself, "I knew who she was as soon as I spotted her. That pretty mug is all over the telly."

"You knew," Johnny asked in confusion as he looked from the flannel wearing Aussie to his brother, "and you didn't take us in to town? You didn't try to save her?"

Mick laughed again, "Of course not, you bloody bastard! I ain't a man to interfere with another man's enterprises," he looked over to Jessica and allowed his eyes to dance over her trembling figure, "no matter how charming the company is. In fact, I respect what you all are doing here."

Jessica felt the shiver run down her spine once again. He had told her that he was going to play along with them, but she felt like his words held a hint of truth in them. She couldn't shake the feeling that was begging her to run and to not stop running.

"But I can almost guarantee ya, that you won't make any money if she's dead," Mick informed Jackie as he pointed to the gun, "I don't think that's how a ransom is done in any part of the world, but I could be wrong on that…"

"He's not wrong about that J," Brent added with a straight face, any other time he would have a smile on his face at how dumb he sounded.

Jessica felt his fingers digging deeper into her hair and she closed her eyes as the pain stretched over her skull. Her heart beat in her chest like the beat of an African tribal drum as she waited for the results of the situation.

"Dude, put the gun down," Johnny said calmly to his older, irrational brother.

Jackie glared at everyone that was looking at him. He sighed and shoved Jessica into Milton's arms. He rolled his eyes and began to walk off.

"Milton," Jessica begged as he carefully pushed her forward towards a small camp where the remnants of a fire remained, "Please don't let them hurt me anymore. I just want to go home, Milton."

Milton nodded as he continued to push her forward.

"What was that," Jackie asked as he turned back to her. He jerked her out of Milton's grasp and began dragging her into the shadows. She struggled against him, gaining new bruises from his harsh grasp along her arms. Her legs scraped against the scrap iron that surrounded them as he dragged her away from prying eyes.

"Let me go you son of a bitch," she hissed as she spied Brent and Milton coming towards them.

Jackie's eyes burned with anger. The woman had pushed his buttons so many times. Instead of being a silent and submissive captive, she had been stubborn and rude. She had yet to break from the shit that he had put her through and it only added fuel to the rage that bubbled inside of him every time he looked at her. He shoved his hand down her thighs and jerked at the ends of her skirts.

"Pull your skirt up," he demanded roughly.

"Get off me," she hissed as she swung at him, feeling her strength slowly seeping back into her appendages.

"Get off of her," Milton demanded as he pulled her away from him and stood between her protectively. Brent came up behind her and shoved the last of the morphine filled syringes into her arm.

"Oi," Mick yelled from the car, "there's some water in that can right there if you gets thirsty."

Jessica was drug back to the campfire and placed in between Milton and Brent. The drug started to work its magic on her once again as she sat defenseless between the men that had kidnapped her. She could hear the sounds of the Outback fading in and out as the drug moved through her veins. She watched as the men took big swigs of the water that Mick had offered them. They refused to give her a small sip. Milton had tried, but Jackie had threatened not only his life, but his wife's life too.

Her eyes closed quickly and she was lost to the world. When the sun rose, she would wake up wishing that she had remained lost.

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**I kind of like writing the "savior" Mick Taylor. It just makes it so much more entertaining to write him as being evil! **

**And poor Jessica, finding her strength only to have it taken away once again. I can promise that that part is over with. Mick doesn't want to hunt little drugged up baby birds, where's the fun in that?**

**What do you think of my storyline so far?**

**What do you think of Jessica? Does Mick seem to be in character?**

**Reviews are amazing! **


	3. Monsters in the Dark

**Chapter 3: Monsters in the Dark**

**So it's been a pretty dark, violent story so far (but what do you expect it's a horror story about a serial killer right?). I've never written so much violence before! This is something new to me so I hope I give this genre a good shot and not ruin it! **

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The day had faded in to night rather quickly in the Outback. Mick Taylor's victims still slumbered from the effects of the spiked water. They'd wake at any moment and his fun night would begin. He stared at the bruised woman. She was used goods but still useable like a dented can of corn from a welfare shelter.

Her chest moved up and down with each intake of oxygen that she took. She lay flat on an old, moveable surgical table that had been used in medical colleges in the golden age. Her hands were strapped into leather stirrups above her head, leaving her helpless to torture. The metal was cold to the touch as he circled around her, waiting like a patient predator to bring down its wounded prey. The black tattoo of a star on her wrist reminded him that she had a life before all of this, he didn't really care though. She was still someone that didn't belong in his land. She was a trespasser.

Jessica groaned slightly and moved her head to the side as the injected drug began wearing off. Mick pulled himself out of her view and hid in the shadows away from her line of sight. She slowly opened her heavy lids and sighed as the drug slowly wore a way to reveal to her a dirty, fly ridden garage. Old blood stained the walls that her tired eyes stared at. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked around her. Terror rushed through her as she tried to move her hands, but found that they were firmly locked in place above her head.

'_What happened,' _the voice inside her mind asked as she looked around. She couldn't remember anything after falling asleep beside the rising fire. She could remember the Australian that had seemingly saved her from her captors. A sick feeling rumbled inside of her stomach as she thought of the many possibilities that could have happened through the night.

The grotesque sound of the familiar laughter sent shivers down her spine. She forced her head to turn as far as her bones would allow to see Mick walking slowly towards her. His smile was almost demonic in the minimal light that filled the garage. Her heart sunk and she shook her head in disbelief. She had wanted to believe that he had been her savior.

"No, no, no," she cried in anguish as he looked down on her as if she were some foreign alien laying on the operating table being prepped for exploratory surgery. Tears of betrayal prickled at the edges of her eyes, but she did not allow them to fall.

'_He was supposed to be the good guy!"_

"Now Jessica," Mick said in a calming tone as he watched her crumble under his gaze, "you shouldn't really move too much what with-"

"Don't do this," she begged as she looked up at him, she could see the faint hairs that poked out of the collar of his shirt and she closed her eyes to escape the view of the man looking down on her, "Just let me go home."

Mick reached out for her and slapped her cheeks lightly causing her head to lull side to side, "Don't go fallin' back to sleep on me," he chuckled as he looked into her bright green eyes, the look of hatred and fear that sparkled in her orbs caused a sudden rush of heat through his body, "Ya won't get to hear the best part of what's gonna happen here today."

"Oh God," she whispered as she watched him remove his large hunting knife with a quiver of her bottom lip. The light glinted off of the sharpened edge of the blade as he held it above her. Her chest heaved up and down as a panic overcame her. She stretched on the table, stretching her arms as far as they could reach. Her broken nails clawed at the binds around her wrists hopelessly as he hummed above her. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt a sudden draft dance upon her flesh as his dirty finger unbuttoned her dress.

She shook her head as she tried to keep her eyes on anything but him. She could feel his eyes on her as she looked at the clippings on the wall along with the many, many tools that a sick mind could use as a torture device. Her bugged eyes widened as she saw the hanging remains of a body that had appeared to be a woman before severe mutilation and decay.

She gagged and turned her head quickly away to look up at her new captor. As she stared up at him, she thought of Milton and how he had tried to protect her and her heart sunk. He was probably dead in a ditch somewhere.

"That bitch over there," Mick said as he pointed his knife to the decaying body, he chuckled as he looked back down at her with those dark eyes that were always searching, "she was a looker just like you! She loved to play. We were great together, ya know," his voice held a dangerous tone, "until she went and lost her bloody head!"

"Please don't do this," Jessica begged as she felt the blade at her clavicle, "You…you, you were supposed to save me from them…"

She felt like a weak little girl under his gaze. Her eyes danced in her head as the sharp, bloody blade moved painstakingly slow from her clavicle while he hummed a childlike song to her. Her chest rose and fell quickly as he placed the knife between her breasts. A gasp escaped her as he cut her pink bra down the middle, allowing him a better look at what she had kept hidden under the padded cloth and underwire.

Mick watched her with interest. All the others had reacted with screams and vulgarities, but she sat there staring up at him in silence and hatred.

"Uh oh," he said with a chuckle as small black dots formed dog like footprints that trailed under her left breast, "What we got here?"

She didn't reply as the blade continued to trail painstakingly slow down her stomach. The small blonde hairs on her stomach stood from the light touch of the tip of the knife that agonizingly teased at her flesh. Her skin twitched as his knife circled her belly button.

"Jessica," he stated flatly as he looked up at his new captive, his eyes trailed over her still covered breasts, a thin trail of another's blood painted her suntanned skin, "now we can't have a meaningful relationship without a bit of talking," he chuckled at her as he placed a large hand upon her flat stomach that quivered under his touch, "What's the ink about on you cunts? Ya know used to, only the slutty ones had ink. No I can't go nowhere without seeing some such fuckin' thing."

She blinked as his question passed through her ears. She watched him stare at the star on her wrist.

'_He's going to kill you anyways. Might as well have him see you as a person that had a life before he rips it away from you!'_

Her voice was weak as she forced herself to answer, "My boyfriend and I got these when he proposed."

"Bloody bastard left ya out here? He dump ya, ay?"

She shook her head and her brows furrowed. She hadn't expected to have a conversation with the man that was slowly torturing her.

"He died," she admitted flatly, "Six weeks ago," she ignored the hum that escaped her captor as his fingers bounced up and down idly on her belly, "He was giving a river tour," she swallowed the pain that wanted to escape her, "A hippo attacked the boat and he killed him; the tourist survived."

"Damned tourists," Mick stated in contained anger as he looked down at her face that now held an indifferent sparkle in her eyes, "Sorry 'bout your mate though."

Mick looked away from her green eyes. He'd never pulled an actual conversation out of a future corpse when he had them tied down. She'd surprised him. He wanted to push her over the edge; he wanted to break her like no one else had. He could see in those dead green eyes that she was once a wild cat.

"You know what I don't get," he stated as he pushed the surgical table upright, the heels of her boots barely touched the ground as she dangled in the air staring at him, "it's like that mobs got rocks for brains," he chuckled as he closed the space between them, only a thin ray of artificial light remained between them, "Why use drugs when it's much more fun chasing someone that's always thinkin'?"

Her skin quivered as if it wished to crawl away as his knife fell to her lower abdomen. She felt the cold metal rip at her underwear. She watched as his eyes lowered in an attempt to put her on edge.

Mick's eyes took in the palette of reds, blues, and purples that painted her thighs. Small cuts from a small blade lingered with scabs.

"They really ruined you, ay Jess," he asked as he looked back up to her indifferent, cold, green eyes.

Jessica jerked her knee upwards in an attempt to get him away from her by making violent contact with his manhood. She wasn't going to let anything happen to her without a fight. Mick smiled as he felt her sudden movement. He deflected it and pulled her legs around his hips and held her there. His knife remained at her abdomen as he watched her take in her new found position against him.

A deep grunt escaped him as if he were a territorial monster in the dark as he glared at her dead eyes. She swallowed the sudden fear that had entered her and put up her shield again. She squirmed against him with a newly found strength that coursed through her. She thought of all the stories that she had heard from African women that had escaped slavery by their own people. Her anger thickened as she thought about how strong they had been; she wanted to be as strong as them. She had a new found reason to survive these men. She felt as if the strength of the unknown women that didn't speak a word of English in her home country flooded into her as she struggled against him.

"Now I never have harmed a woman Jessica," Mick lied with a dark glint in his eyes as he held her in place between him and the surgical table, he could smell the sweat on her skin, "that didn't ask me to, but I mean," he shook his head as he glared down on her, "You keep squirmin' the way ya doing," he licked his lips as he watched her chest heave up and down from the panic that he was placing in her, "I'm just a man, after all," he eyed her carefully waiting for a reply, but she gave him nothing, she just laid there as if she were plotting against him in silence, "You foreigners are weak as piss. You come into my-"

Jessica glared up at him with a look that could decapitate a man and said with a cold, murderous voice, "There are men like you in Africa," she shook her head, "just like you that torture and rape because that's how they show their dominance," a Cheshire like grin crossed her face as she glared up at him, her indifferent eyes cut through him, "so you do what you got to do to me," she paused, "and then you can go to fucking hell."

...

Johnny felt something moving over his waist and legs. The sharp smell of putrid death and stagnated mud invaded his senses as his heavy lids slowly opened. Sunken in eyes looked into his soul with cloudy eyes. Flies buzzed through the hole that he found himself in.

"Holy fuck," Johnny screamed as he jumped backwards at the sight of a long dead man looking at him. His heart beat like a tom tom in his chest as he looked around him. A slew of bodies lay in different states of decay in the muddy hole. It reminded him of old photographs of the concentration camps during World War II as he took in the ghoulish and mangled corpses. Bugs crawled through and atop the corpses that surrounded him. He gagged as the smell became overbearing to his senses.

The sound of hissing forced him to turn to the strange movement that he had felt in his waking moments.

"Shhhhiitt," he cried as he watched a long, slender taipan slither around his leg with its tongue flicking in the air to taste his fear that wafted in the putrid air. Johnny shivered and quickly threw the snake far from him. He felt a sense of disgust come over him as the touch of the creature's scales seemed to remain on his hand. He quickly rubbed his hand upon his pants and grimaced as he looked around the small hole in the ground. Mud caked against his shoes as he looked upwards to the small opening above him.

Johnny took a deep breath and began pushing himself from the ground in haste. As he did, he felt a sharp, burning pain in his hand. He looked down to see a shorter taipan curling up, ready to strike again. The second bite was just as painful; the snake had sunk its fangs into his forearm and shot him up with a large dosage of the most lethal venom in the world. Blood from the puncture wounds dripped slowly down his arm. Panic set in as he hurried away from the death hole. He forced himself to climb the small ladder that led back to the surface. Tears escaped him as he shivered in fear.

The moon shown down on him as he escaped through the small hole. He shoved old wooden boards out of his way as he hurried to find an escape. Screams dance across the night air as he rushes through the forgotten mining camp. His heart beats as if it is out of control in his chest as he hurries by. The girl's screams penetrate the air like a sharp knife. He stops only momentarily to check in on her. He peeks through a small window where the screams are escaping. He holds his bloody hand over his mouth to cover the sound of his heavy breathing. Time feels like it expands across space as he watches through hazy eyes as the Australian stood between her legs with a knife at her stomach. He watched as the girl's head lolled back as another scream erupted from deep in her lungs. He watched in sick fascination as Mick moved to slap her face.

The letter M bled from her skin as he removed the knife away from her abdomen. The man that had brought them out there was sick and had branded the girl that they were supposed to use as ransom for a large amount of money.

Johnny watched with increasingly blurry vision as Mick Taylor slapped Jessica's cheeks. Her own blood stained her cheeks.

"Hey, don't pass out on me now," he heard Mick demand with a wicked laugh that sent cold chills down his back, "we haven't even got to the bloody fun parts yet!"

Johnny felt like he was going to be sick as he watched the torture. He watches as Jessica's eyes grow large as she looks down to the new wound on her abdomen. Her scream tears into his soul as she looks down at it grotesqueness.

"Now you know what you got to do to make me stop, ay," Mick informed her, "I already told ya."

Jessica didn't answer him like Johnny had hoped. He wanted to do the brave thing and save her, but he couldn't find any sense of courage to speak up for her.

"Now tell me 'bout your little friends," Mick demanded and Johnny felt fear rush through him. He shoved himself away from the small window and hurried out of the camp. He tripped over abandoned tools and car parts as he headed for the large hill in the distance. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew it was safer to brave the elements than to chance it with the Australian with the cowboy hat.

He ran and ran until the girl's screams were no longer audible. He felt sharp briars from the weeds cut into his legs, but he kept pushing himself until his legs began to shake and his vision blurred. The muscles in his legs burned. He could feel the venom from the snake coursing, burning, through his veins. He coughed and groaned at the pain that erupted through him. He rolled over on his back and looked up at the sky. The stars twinkled at him in the same manner that they had done when he was a child. Everything seemed like a normal night, except for the fact that a psycho had picked them up and taken them to the middle of fucking nowhere to die!

"Jackie," he screamed before the chorus of wild dogs and dingoes erupted from around him, somewhere not too far in the distance. He sobbed as he waited for death. He knew it was coming as he felt his breathing coming in harder and harder breaths.

The sounds of the dogs moved in closer as the venom effectively completed its lethal job on his body. He stayed awake for two hours before he finally allowed his life to slip away like the blood still streaming out of his arm from the snake bites.

...

"Sir," an Australian satellite expert in the police department announced as he turned to the governor of Alabama, Robert Muldoon, and Sally Jameson who were the biological parents of Jessica Muldoon. Robert stood regal with a well-tailored suit; a pistol remained hidden under his jacket though he had been told many times to remove it. His hair was blonde and cut in a crew cut, spots of grey was peppering his hair. His green eyes were the same pastel shade that his daughter carried. There was no denying that Jessica was his child. She resembled him more than she did her mother. Sally sat with red eyes and a hand kerchief in her hand that she had balled up out of nervousness. Her eyes were a darker shade of green and her hair was a dull shade of blonde; the only things that their daughter had inherited from her were her love for Africa and her slight widow's peak.

"What is it," Robert asked, his voice was hard and demanding as he glared at the poor man. His voice held a Southern dialect, but it was not overbearing like some other governor's in the southern states. His was authentic.

"We've located her cell phone," the man informed him.

"That's a good thing right," Robert asked as he stared at the man, hope glittered in his eyes as he awaited the man's answer.

"We're hoping," he answered, "We've sent word to local authorities in that area. They have been sent photographs of the men that we believe took your daughter," he stopped and looked from Robert to Sally and added softly, "We are doing everything in our power to find your daughter."

"If they don't find her," Robert asked.

"Bob," Sally cried in horror at his horrible question.

"They've probably taken her into the Outback," he informed the worried parents, "if she's out there," he shrugged his shoulders, "depending on the distance, we may not find her. It would be up to her to find her way back to civilization if they've taken her too far out. We believe that she may be somewhere near Wolf Creek based on where the cell phone had been abandoned."

"There's people that can go out and look though, right," Sally asked as she felt her heart sink in her chest.

"Yes mam," the man answered with a nod, "We are going to set up search parties, but if she's too far out then it will be up to her to find her way back without-"

"She can do it," Robert said with conviction and nodded to the woman that had given him a child, "She's known how to travel through Africa. The Outback can't be much different from the Serengeti, can it?"

* * *

**I'm not from Africa or Australia so please forgive me if I get something wrong. The things that I have mentioned are from what I've looked up and could possibly be wrong. **

**Also, I nabbed Jessica's name from Robert Muldoon of Jurassic Park**


	4. The Good Samaritan

**Chapter 4: The Good Samaritan**

**Ah I finally had some reviews! Thank you! **

* * *

Milton Esparza groaned softly as he forced his heavy lids open. The burden of sleep begged him to close his eyes once again. The smell of old dirt and smoke filled the small room that he found himself in. Dirt stained his clothes and clung to his skin. Panic rushed through his veins as realization slapped him in the face. Confusion set in as to who had placed him inside the small building. His heart seemed to jump into his throat while his tired eyes widened at the gruesome sight that hung from the ceiling above him. A dried chunk of long blonde hair hung from the ceiling. He gagged at the blackened flesh that was attached to the hair that hung above him.

"Oh my God," he cried as he forced himself off of the ground and into a sitting position. Plastic ties wrapped around his meaty wrists like handcuffs, red rings burned at his flesh as he tried without success to break free. Thoughts of his sick wife rushed through his mind as he sat in the small tin room alone. Low sobs escaped him as he thought of his wife living in pain without him by her side. Tears rushed down his dirtied cheeks and mingled with the sweat that had begun to bead and drip from his forehead. He took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

"I'm sorry," Milton cried in prayer, his voice was shaky and full of worry, "Please protect me," a sob escaped him, "Help me make it home to my wife," he shook his head as reality hit him, what was happening to him was punishment for what he had silently participated in, "I swear I'll make everything right. I'll tell them everything," another sob escaped from his chest as he pushed himself to his feet with a loud grunt, "Please help me."

The blonde scalp moved slightly in the wind and tickled at the back of his neck. Fear rushed through him and forced him forward. The sound of a cool breeze rattled against the small tin shed that he'd been thrown into and the door batted lightly against the walls. His heart pounded in his chest like wild horses on the run as he hurried towards it, ready to fight whoever may have been waiting to stop him from escaping.

Milton stumbled out of the small tin shed and looked around with wide eyes. The scenery seemed calm; there were no strange noises, only the constant sound of the soft wind. Nothing seemed amiss, except for the one light that came from a building across from his shed. His eyes spanned across the mining camp, there was no sign of his group, the governor's daughter, or the Good Samaritan that had picked them up off the side of the road. He hurried over to where the last remnants of the fire remained and quickly, with shaking hands, searched for something sharp to cut the plastic restraints.

"Please God, please God," he prayed softly as his fingers ripped through bags for a knife. Soft sobs escaped him as he battled against the want to just flee the scene, but common sense told him that he would need the use of his hands if he were to survive in the Outback.

He felt his heart stop momentarily as his fingers grazed against a cold metal. He peered into the bag that he held, Jessica's purse that he had kept safe in his bag, to see a sharp nail file case. His fingers quickly tore into the old case to reveal the shiny silver metal of small scissors. He wasted little time in cutting the plastic restraints and running towards the flatbed truck.

"Someone please help me," he heard the muffled cry of the girl cry out.

Milton stopped his flee and turned to look to the one building that had lights escaping it. He could hear her muffled cries through the metal tin and he shook his head. Common sense told him to leave her behind and save his own skin, but his kind heart told him to save her and protect her like he had been doing the entire time that she had been their captive.

He hurried to the building without thought of his own wellbeing. He shoved the tin door open with a strong thrust and stumbled into a Hell that the Good Book hadn't come close to describing. He gagged as the overwhelming smell of blood and decay slammed into him like a freight train.

"Milton," Jessica whispered thankfully as she fought against the leather binds on her wrists, "He's going to come back soon. He told me-"

"Did that man do this to you," he asked in fearful confusion as he took in her exposed body. Blood dripped in a constant flow down her leg from her abdomen from the M that had been carved into her flesh. Her sweat drenched dress stuck to her skin as she struggled against the metal table.

"He's fucking crazy," she cried as Milton quickly begun removing the shackles against her wrist. Tears fell from her eyes as she shook her head, "He's going to come back. Don't let him catch us."

Milton nodded at her tired pleas as he jerked the leather binds off of her wrists. He watched as she quickly pulled her dirty dress against her, covering herself from him. Her fingers quickly buttoned the dress back up and turned away from him. His eyes looked around the torture chamber. He felt like he had entered the mind of a mad man as his eyes lingered on the mutilated body of a woman.

"Oh my God," he whispered as he listened to Jessica search through the tools that sat forgotten on the corner table, "We need to get out of here!"

Jessica shook her head as she searched for the knife that he had used to cut her. Anger bubbled inside of her. With each move she made, a pain tugged through her abdomen from the carving, but she ignored the pain as she forced herself to find a weapon against him.

"Where is it," she hissed in anger as she shoved old newspaper articles and a forgotten sandwich to the floor. Bullets skidded across the table and fell to the sandy floor as she searched for something.

"Jessica, we need to go now," Milton begged. He felt a hint of foreboding prickle at his skin as he allowed his hands to nervously slide through his dirty hair.

"Not yet," she hissed under her breath, "I have to find something. We won't last out-"

Milton turned away from her as the adrenaline rushed through him. The flight or fight reaction rushed through his limbs begging him to run and leave her. He'd done his part and she wasn't fleeing with him.

"What the bloody hell are you doin' out," Mick's voice announced as he looked down at the frightened Cuban.

Milton looked up at Mick and a visible quiver overtook him. The smile that painted Mick's face as he looked down on him shot a hot anger through him. He'd seen the same smile on Johnny's face after he attacked Jessica for the first time. The look sent him over the edge and he lunged for the Australian that had brought them to the gates of Hell. He swung at Mick, throwing his weight behind each punch.

Jessica turned quickly to see Milton fighting the man that had cut into her. The need to survive surged through her as she grasped a hammer tightly in her hand. She carefully stood at a distance as Milton swung at Mick, he huffed as he did so. Her eyes widened as she watched the large hunting knife lurch out towards Milton. Blood poured out of his forearm as the blade bit into his flesh. She listened to Milton's groan and Mick's bloodcurdling laughter. She wrapped her hand around a hammer and lurched forward as Milton forced Mick to turn his back away from Jessica.

She tightly grasped the grip of the hammer and brought it down with as much force as her tired body could exert. The claw end of the hammer ripped into his shoulder blade and his angry shout echoed throughout the building, his angry outburst covered the muffled whimper that escaped Milton. His curses fueled her anger as she ripped the hammer out of his back just as he turned to face her with the bloody knife in his hand, ready to swipe at her.

"Fuckin' bitch," Mick screamed.

"Hit him," Milton demanded as Jessica swung the face end of the hammer with a loud, guttural scream.

Jessica watched as Mick fell to the dirt floor with a loud thud. Blood seeped through his flannel shirt as he lay face down in the dirt. She took a deep breath as she tried to control the sudden surge of rage that had ripped through her body. Milton's sudden groan jerked her away from the man's bloody back. She looked up to see her previous captor holding his bloodstained hands at his side where a blood stain was growing.

"Oh my God," she whispered with sad eyes and furrowed brows.

"We need to get out of here," Milton demanded as he reached out for her and pulled her away from the crazed Outback killer.

She hopped over the unconscious body of Mick Taylor as he pulled her away from the torture building. She felt a sense of foreboding come over her as she allowed the man to pull her across the empty mining camp. He stopped at the flatbed truck and she jerked her hand away from him and shook her head.

"We can't take the truck," she informed him as she kept her eyes towards the building, "I should have killed him. He's going to wake-"

"What?!"

She turned to look at Milton who was trying to start the truck, "We can't take the truck."

"Why not," Milton asked, his worry was fading into anger as the pain from his stab wound rippled throughout his body, "We won't-"

"We don't know this land," she answered with a deep breath as she looked from him and back to the building, panic was bubbling inside of her, "There are gorges and we can't see in the dark. We'll be safer on foot," she listened as he cursed under his breath and close the door of the truck, "He'll be able to see the lights if we are in the truck."

"Let's go," Milton said in anger and disbelief as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the countryside.

Jessica kept looking behind them as they quickly made distance between them and the torture chamber where Mick Taylor lay unconscious. Her heart pounded in her chest as they ran together through the empty land. Foreboding set in as she rushed through the Australian Outback. She could hear the sounds of the wild dogs in the distance and a shiver rippled through her body as she felt eyes watching her. She knew it was just a matter of time before he would wake up and come after them again.

She knew he wasn't going to give up without a fight. He was a hunter with the patience of a lurking crocodile and Milton was bleeding in the water. She wasn't going to roll over and die for him easily, she was going to survive. She was going to fight back with the spirits of African warriors on her side, and she was going to survive no matter what she had to do.

* * *

**So now they are in the middle of nowhere without a truck and Milton is bleeding from a stab wound. What's going to happen?**

**Reviews are amazing things**


	5. Say a Prayer

**Chapter 5: Say a Prayer **

The escaped captives force their tired legs through the growing brush of the Outback. They had been running for the last hour and had made considerably distance between them and the mining camp. Jessica held Milton up; he leaned against her shoulder with his arm draped around her shoulders. The moon is slightly covered by thick dark clouds from the incoming storm in lurking the distance, their shadows fell across the dry ground from the moonlight. Bushes grew tall around them as they hurry through the darkness. A rancid, metallic smell fills the air around them as they continue forward. The only sounds that filtered across the Outback were the heavy breaths escaping their pounding chest, Milton's gasps of pain, and the sound of their shoes pounding against the hard earth.

Jessica could see the growing blood stain on Milton's shirt. His gasps for breath were coming in quicker spurts and she knew that he wouldn't be able to continue on through the night.

"We need to stop," she whispered through heavy breaths, "You can't-"

"No," Milton demanded and shook his head quickly, "We need to get as far away as we can from-"

"You are too-," she stopped suddenly as the sounds of growling and tearing sounds echoed throughout the brush. She carefully removed herself from Milton's side to investigate the growing sounds in the distance.

"Don't go over there," Milton asked, "Are you stupid? It could be that crazy fuck-"

"It's not. It's an animal. If there are animals around here to feed on, it could mean that we are near a ranch," Jessica reassured him as she slowly and quietly made her way towards the noises just ahead of them. She could hear Milton reluctantly following after her as she followed the strange noises. She pushed herself forward to see a pack of wild dogs fighting over a mutilated corpse. The rancid smell of blood and drool overpowered her and stopped her in her tracks. All hope of finding a ranch house escaped her as the ghastly scene came into view.

"Oh fuck," Milton cried as he turned away from the bloody corpse as three dogs ripped into the arm, "That's Johnny!"

Jessica looked away from the carnage and turned to look at the panicking man that had tried to protect her during her time of need. His face was pale from loss of blood and she knew that he needed to get to a hospital soon or he was a goner for sure. A dangerous growl pulled Jessica's attention away from Milton to see two large dogs from the pack coming towards them with their sharp white canines bared for them to see.

Jessica lowered herself to the ground as if she were bowing to them and whispered under her breath in Afrikaans, just as she recalled an old game warden from her youth say to an angry lion, "Leef en laat leef."

She watched as the dogs gave one last warning growl and turned ever slowly away from the beings that intruded on their freshly found meal. She looked back to Milton who was staring at her with wide eyes.

"Come on," she said softly as she looked across the blank landscape, "We need to put some more distance between us and him."

They trekked further into the Outback. Another half hour had passed by since they escaped their sudden intrusion on the pack of dogs. Prickly burrs scraped against Jessica's bare legs and stuck to Milton's pants. Their pace had slowed dramatically because of Milton. He was breathing harder with each step they took.

"I can't go anymore," he whispered as he stumbled forward, "I need to stop."

"Okay," Jessica whispered in reply as she looked around for any signs of the madman, "We'll stop and rest for just a little while."

"No," Milton cried as he lay down on the ground, he propped his head against a large rock cluster that sat forgotten in the middle of nowhere, "You need to keep going."

"I'm not leaving you," she insisted.

"I'm only going to slow you down," he informed her with a shake of his head, he groaned in pain, "One of us needs to get to help. You can come back for me."

"I'm not leaving you," she declared with finality in her voice as she took a seat across from him. The moon shone down on them softly, giving each other a better look at the trauma they had suffered at the hands of Mick Taylor.

"Did he rape you?"

"No," she answered honestly with a shake of her head, "He threatened me. That was it," she rolled her eyes and allowed a soft chuckle, one given out of exhaustion, "Looks like he is still higher on the totem pole of morality than the company that you keep."

"Jess," Milton whispered with sadness and regret clearly painted within his words, "I'm so sorry. I didn't want any part of that. We were just supposed to kidnap you, hold you for ransom, and then you were supposed to be given back without any problems."

"I don't blame you Milton," Jessica answered casually as she looked to the ground, "I'm never going to forget that. I can forgive you, but I'll never forget. You saved me in more ways than one. I heard you take a few punches, and then I heard you convince Jackie to wear a condom if he was going to do anything to me."

Milton sighed and looked up to the cloudy sky and replied with a deep breath, "This is my punishment for being a part of this plan. I'm going to die in the middle of nowhere."

"You're not going to die," Jessica knowingly lied as she looked back up at him. Blood was slowly pooling around him as he sat against the rock.

"Can you say a prayer for me," he asked with sad eyes.

Jessica eyed him carefully with equally sad eyes as she shook her head and replied solemnly, "I'm sorry. I don't know any prayers."

Milton let a soft laugh escape his chapped lips as he replied in disbelief, "You don't know any prayers? Who are you?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered with the same solemn tone.

A silence billowed between them in the darkness as they sat alone waiting for the early morning rays of the sun.

"Jesus Christ this rock is so uncomfortable," Milton attempted to joke as he looked over to Jessica. Blood stained her white dress, but she looked resolved to survive this situation.

"Well when you are walking around in the middle of nowhere without knickers give me a buzz," she answered to add light to their dark situation.

Milton chuckled, but did not reply. The way she was so calm sent a slight nervous shiver down his spine. Instead of speaking, he allowed a fog of silence to roll in through them. He looked up to the stars and sighed as he thought of his wife while Jessica looked out to the wild around them with keen eyes searching for approaching lights.

"That was smart of you to not get a car," he informed her, breaking the silence, "How'd you know not to do that?"

"I don't know this land," she answered with a shrug, "but I can track and get my way out of here better on foot. My grandpa taught me how to survive in the wilderness. It's different, but the same concepts apply I would assume."

"Did you ever encounter something like this," he asked, "being chased by a mad man? You're smart on your feet. Strong. It's like you know what you're doing."

"Once," she answered and looked away from him, "with a war lord. That's what they do, ya know? Use fear and power over you," she shook her head as the previous encounter between her and Mick rushed through her memory, "He's no different than the worthless piece of shit that raped my best friend and gave her AIDS."

"You're going to survive this," Milton whispered as he watched her carefully, a ripple of pain moved through his body, "I've seen that strength in you against Jackie. You're like what my mom used to speak about."

"What's that," Jessica asked as she looked back up to the man that was on the edge of death. In any other situation, she knew that most people wouldn't have a conversation while being chased by a lunatic, but this wasn't a normal conversation. Milton was on his death bed and she knew the only way for the truth to not overwhelm him was to act as if they were old friends bullshitting around a camp fire.

"She always told us that if there's a beast within man, then that beast meets its match in a woman," he answered with a soft chuckle, "that beast will get you through this."

"I have something of yours," Milton admitted as he pulled something out of his pants pocket with tired, shaking hands. Jessica watched him carefully as a gold chain dangled in his hands. A sharp canine dangled in the air and glinted in the night light.

"You kept it," she asked in astonishment as she reached for her necklace, "I thought I lost it when-"

"I kept it safe for you," he answered honestly, "I knew those idiots would try to pawn it and then we'd get busted. Is it from Africa?"

"Yeah," she answered with a smile as she clasped it back around her neck.

"What is it? A tiger?"

Jessica giggled at his question and said casually as if their lives weren't in danger, "Tigers live in Asia, not Africa," she paused as she looked down at the tooth on her chest, "It's from a very special creature."

"What?"

"From a hyena that I saved when I was 16," she answered with a proud smile as she recalled finding the baby hyena.

"Ah. They've been showing a picture of you with a hyena in your hands," he informed her as he looked back up at the sky.

"Her name was Vitani," she answered the question that he had not asked, "It means 'I Am War'. I raised her from a cub. We were both lost little girls when I found her. I had gotten separated from the group I was in and had to survive like a week on my own."

"Where's Vitani now," he asked, his eye lids were growing tired as his life slowly coursed out of him.

"Somewhere in Africa," she answered, "What brought you into this life? It's not you. You could have easily done what they did, but you didn't it."

Milton looked away from her and shook his head as he contemplated telling her his story before his life slipped away.

"My wife is dying of cancer," he answered with a hint of finality, "It's terminal, but we still have to pay all the bills with money we don't have. They were going to take the house. We needed the money. This was supposed to be a simple job."

"So kidnap some governor's daughter," she asked with lifted brows.

"It made sense at the time," Milton replied as he looked up to the stars.

"Well," Jessica slowly informed him, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but my dad is going bankrupt. Hell, I can't believe it hasn't made the news yet. He invested in some company that went belly up. He's living off the state."

Milton chuckled, but they were stifled as headlights crossed over the dry land that surrounded them. Panic enveloped the wanderers as the lights bobbed up and down in the distance.

"Shit," he cried and turned to Jessica, "get out of here."

"I'm not leaving-"

"Run back to his camp," Milton demanded, "He won't guess that you'll go back there! Get a car when the sun comes up and get the hell out of there."

"But what about-"

"I'm making up for the things that have happened. I'm not going to let him get you again," he insisted with a hurried tone, his eyes cut away from her and towards the loud vehicle, "now get out of here!"

Jessica nodded and thanked him softly as she rushed into the thick bushes the surrounded them. Her heart beat quickly in her chest as she forced herself to fall to the ground a good ways away from where Milton sat alone. She flattened her body against the ground; the foliage gave her a sense of protection as she lay alone. Her breath came in short bursts as she waited for Mick to find Milton.

The rumbling of the truck came to a sudden stop. The headlights were thrown against Milton, blinding him from the view of the madman. Sand danced lightly with each breath she took as she laid on the cold ground. Her green eyes peered through the bushes to see Mick exiting his truck with a gun thrown around his shoulder. Panic rippled through her, her breath quivered as she watched him slowly approach Milton like a curious predator.

A laugh escaped Mick as he took in the blood pooling around Milton. Milton looked up at Mick and glared at him. Jessica watched silently from the safety of the bushes as Mick chuckled like a mad hyena that had just found its prey. His long shadow fell over Milton who looked up at him like he was an unjust god on earth.

"Ay, that's what happens when you fuck around with another man's ol' lady," Mick said with glee.

"She's gone," Milton informed him with an angered tone, "You won't get her!"

"Well that's were ya are wrong, mate," Mick said with a shrug as he looked down upon the dying man, "I always get my prize," he held his hands out like it was a common fact and added with boastful glee, "I'm always the winner!"

"Not this time," Milton informed me, "You may kill me, but that girl is going to beat you."

Jessica watched with unblinking eyes as Mick cackled at the blunt statement and pulled his rifle over his shoulder. He pointed the business end down at Milton and sighed.

"Now as I see it," Mick said simply as if he were talking to a man with a very low IQ, "you got two choices, each one ends with ya dying anyways," he grinned like a mad hatter as he glared down at the Cuban that had rescued Jessica from his clutches, "You tell me which direction she went and I'll put ya out your misery or you cannot tell me and I leave ya out here for the dogs. Eh? Ya with me?!"

Milton groaned as desperation came over him at the decision that he was being forced to make. He looked passed Mick in the direction of the mining company and bit at his tongue as a wave of pain erupted through his midsection.

"Come on," Mick whined, "She ain't worth bein' ripped apart for. Ain't no pussy worth that!"

He groaned again and a sob escaped him. Jessica lay on the cold ground in fear as she watched the pale man fight to keep the secret away from Mick.

"She said that she remembered a map," Milton lied, Jessica allowed a soft breath escape her, "She said there was a warehouse or something nearby," Milton looked up at him with shiny, blood shot eyes, "That's where she said she was going."

"Ya see," Mick stated loudly with an amused laugh, "it wasn't that hard, was it?!"

Jessica watched as Mick held the rifle above Milton's forehead. She closed her eyes and looked away as an overwhelming sickness came over her. She was so close, she could run the distance between the two and tackle him to the ground to save Milton, but her fear kept her in place.

'_He's going to kill him and then he's going to kill you. This isn't going to have a happy ending.'_

The shot rang through the night. The final grunt echoed in her ears as Milton took his last breath. Her heart skipped a beat as she heard Mick dislodge the shell. Tears fell down her cheeks and landed in small puddles upon the hard ground. She kept her breath steady and her body still as she listened to Mick humming at his triumphant win.

A snap came from somewhere nearby. Her heart fell into her stomach as she heard another snap. She wanted to burrow into the ground like a mole to get away from the monster chasing her. She heard the click of a flashlight and watched as the light slowly moved across the ground.

'_He's going to get you! It won't be long 'til you are dead and gone.'_

She swallowed the fear that entered her and laid flat on the ground wishing desperately that she could melt through the hard dirt as the light inched closer and closer. Memories of that night when her friend was tortured by a war lord bit at her memory, she could remember hiding behind a bush and watching the whole thing, not daring to reveal herself to save her best friend. She had been a coward then, as she was now. She let Milton take the bullet for her instead of saving him. She could hear the sound of her heart pounding in her ears as she waited for her position to be revealed by the bright light.

'_This is what you get for not helping them. This is what you deserve for-'_

The light clicked off just as it was about to shine upon her. Her body trembled as she listened to his footsteps leading away from her. The sound of the truck door opening and then closing seemed to be music to her ears. The truck rumbled back to life and backed away from Milton's limp body.

Jessica lay on the ground for a good five minutes before overcoming the shock of the events that had transpired. She forced herself up from the cold ground and walked towards Milton's lifeless body. Tears freely escaped her as she looked down upon the man that had given his life for her to survive another day. His glassy eyes peered up at the sky. A single bullet hole sat between his brows and blood and grey matter leaked out of the back of his skull. She felt sick as she looked down at the carnage. Vomit rumbled up her throat and she turned away from his lifeless form. She heaved out the old chips that Mick had given her when he was playing the part of the Good Samaritan coming to save her from the monsters that had kidnapped her.

Sobs escaped her as she broke down. Her legs gave out from under her as the stress of everything came over her. She knew that she needed to hurry and get back to the mining camp, but she needed to mourn for Milton before she started her trek back into Hell.

* * *

**So a little backstory for Milton and Jessica...YAY character development!**

**So would you go back to the mining camp or would you keep running away? What's in store for Jessica?**

**Reviews make me so happy!**


	6. Prey

**Chapter 6: Prey**

Jessica took a deep breath as she managed to find her way back to the mining camp with quick speed. Her legs quivered from the hike, with each movement she made a pain lurched through her from the engraving Mick had placed upon the flesh of her abdomen. She forced her way through the pain. The need to survive forced her forward towards a large building where the hoods of old cars looked at her through small windows.

'_Check and make sure he isn't here.'_

The tired, wounded girl looked around the camp, keeping a careful eye out for the flatbed truck that Mick Taylor had led them into Hell with. She was satisfied that he hadn't made his way back to the camp when there wasn't any sign of it.

But what she didn't know was that he was already lying silently in wait for his prey to come to him.

Jessica hurried through the empty lot towards the largest building. Her feet pounded against the hard ground as she closed the distance between her and the door. Her breath came in harsh gasps and her body begged for her to stop and rest. As she reached the door, she gave it a hard shove with her tired body. She sighed as the door opened easily to reveal to her a plethora of dusty cars and little nooks and crannies to hide in if Mick were to come back in search for her.

"Keys," she whispered as she stood still for only a moment to catch her breath. She pushed herself away from the door and deeper into the large building, away from the dusty cars and into the interior of the building where it seemed Mick had made a makeshift home in an old office. Old hiking bags littered the crevices, old video cameras had been thrown into a pile to collect dusk, and photographs and passports had been tacked to the walls as a reminder that Mick Taylor had been up to these deadly antics for a long time.

She quickly took to digging through drawers of the scattered work benches that grew against the walls. She ignored the souvenirs that Mick had taken from his victims as she scavenged for a set of keys that would lead to her eventual escape.

The sound of the door opening echoed throughout the building. Jessica's breath caught in her throat and she quickly took to the walls, depending on the darkness of the shadows to keep her hidden. She took careful, silent steps towards a large glass window that split the interior from the hanger that held the cars. She could hear Mick's footsteps against the dusty floor.

"Now Jessica," she heard him call out to her, "Come on out of where ever ya are hidin' and we can work this out. I'll take you home. How's that sound, ay?"

She closed her eyes as his harsh laughter echoed throughout the empty building. She fell to her knees and crawled across the floor as his footsteps fell closer and closer towards the interior of the building where she hid.

Jessica heard the crashing of glass hit the ground as she hurried to cross the darkened room. Her breath came in short bursts as adrenaline raged through her. From her position against the wall in the darkness, with her back against the wall, she could see Mick slamming a tire iron into the glass causing shards to fly upon the floor. As she watched the shards of glass hit the hard ground, she finally understood that he wasn't going to let her escape easily.

Her heart fell as she watched Mick enter through the door way with a look of stern focus painted upon his tanned skin. He dropped the tire iron to the hard ground. His large frame lingered in the door frame as his eyes scanned across the cluttered office.

Mick watched the shards of glass glitter in what little light filled the old office. His fingers kneaded against his large knife as he walked towards the broken glass. The small shards broke into smaller ones as he walked across them. He held a large flashlight in his left hand and clicked it on. The dim light took in every inch of the small quarters.

"Hmmm," Mick hummed as he spun around to see an empty wall, "Where'd ya go lil girlie?"

Jessica shoved herself against the tire of an old car after narrowly escaping his vile clutches. Her heart thumped in her chest as she looked out towards the row of cars that covered her. She could see the door that could lead to her escape.

The sound of his boots against the floor pulled her attentions away from the door and back to how she was going to get away from Mick Taylor. She forced herself to crawl with her back hunched low as his footsteps came closer and closer.

Mick whistled as he walked with his knife in hand, ready to immobilize the young woman in order to keep her stationary. He wasn't going to let her get away again.

His whistle was torture to her ears as she hurriedly made her way from car to car. His steps came closer and closer, her heart palpitated in her chest with each movement she made. The pain in her abdomen seemed to fade away as the thought of escaping became more and more important to her survival.

'_He doesn't have a gun, get up and run!'_

She didn't listen to the voice in her head. Instead she fell to the ground and rolled across the floor. Dust fell in her eyes as she rolled under an old yellow car. The metal undercarriage was only a few inches above her chest. She could smell the old oil and dirt that lived under the car. Her tired eyes watched unblinkingly as his boots edged closer to the car. She placed her hand over her mouth to hide her labored breath and closed her eyes to pray for help.

Mick stopped at the yellow car and stopped whistling, allowing the silence to form inside of the cold room. He looked down at the floor and smiled. The dirt on the floor was slightly moved from her weight and small drips of blood stained the floor. He decided to allow the mental torture to go on for a bit longer before allowing himself the pleasure of catching her.

He stepped forward, purposefully allowing her to think that he had no idea that she was hiding beneath the car. He continued his whistling as he knelt over with his knife in hand. The blade ripped into the hard rubber of the car tire and a loud hiss echoed throughout the air.

Jessica gasped and rolled away from Mick as his hand lurched underneath the car. His grip wrapped around her ankle as she tried to escape him. She pulled at the ground with all of her might, her fingernails clawed at the concrete ground as he pulled on her ankle. Blood poured out of her nail bed as she cried as he pulled her closer and closer to him.

"Come on outta there," Mick demanded as he wrestled with her jerking form, "Come to ol' Uncle Mickey, Jessie!"

Jessica cried as she flipped on her side, oil and black grease from the car's metal frame stained her white dress as she fought against him. His laughing flooded through her body and pierced her soul. She couldn't allow him to have her in his murderous clutches again. She kicked at him and listened to him yelp as her shoe stumped his fingers. His grasp loosened and she slipped out of his grasp.

Jessica pulled herself from under the broken car and hurried out of the building. She could hear Mick cussing loudly as he pulled himself upright to watch her escaping him from a second time. She'd gotten the upper hand in each situation, and he wasn't going to allow her to escape again.

He placed his knife back in its home upon his waist and made his way after his wounded, exhausted prey. It wasn't long until she would give in to the exhaustion. All the other girls had given in and just accepted their fate after fighting him.

Her time and freedom was up.

* * *

**Short chapter before the real action starts up. The next few chapters may have smutty scenes if that's what you are into and if you're not, here's your warning. **

**Reviews are always lovely. **


	7. Funny Games

**Chapter 7: Funny Games**

**So there's a bit of light smut at the end of this chapter. Just a warning.**

Jessica forced her tired, aching body out of the garage. Blood stuck to her wounds from the tiny cuts that littered her skin from the small shards of glass. Sweat soaked her body as she pleaded with God in her mind to save her, to protect her from the very human monster that was chasing after her. She could still feel his vile hands touching at her skin as she forced her burning legs forward, her speed had diminished as a result of her exhaustion.

A shriek escaped her as a hand wrapped around her midsection and pulled her close. She cried out and punched at the long, sweaty appendages that wrapped around her.

"What the fuck is going-"

Jessica turned herself around and broke the sweaty grip the man had on her. She looked up to see Brent looking at her with dilated eyes. She watched as his eyes danced in his skull from the effect of whatever drug he'd either injected himself with or Mick had injected him with.

"Brent! We have to go," she cried as she looked towards the garage with fear filled eyes. Confusion and apprehensiveness fueled through her as she watched for any sight of the crazed Australian, "He's fucking-"

"Where's Jackie," Brent asked, "I fuckin' crashed and I wake up and no one is around."

"Brent, please," Jessica begged through tears as she pulled on his wrist to come with her, "We need to get out of here."

She didn't want the man to have the same fate as Milton. She couldn't allow another person to die, even if he had a part to play in kidnapping her and placing her in the violent situation that they had found themselves in.

Brent grabbed her hands and felt her shivering body. The fear that painted her face was something that he hadn't seen even when Jackie had done horrible things to her. He finally took in the blood, sweat, and grit that covered her tanned skin. She finally took in the missing buttons in her white dress and the large stain of blood that bled through her dress on her hip.

"What did Jackie do," he asked in disgust, "I told him that you couldn't go through anymore."

A sob escaped Jessica as her legs begged her to fall to the ground and give up. She shook her head as she felt his hands move to her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. She cried and tried to pull him away from the garage, to protect the man from the monster that was coming out of the garage. She closed her eyes as a searing pain went through her from her abdomen.

"I bet _they _already know what happened to you," Brent said as he shook his head and looked up to the sky, "I knew there were satellites watching us! I told them to throw out the Nokia!"

Neither one noticed Mick walking up behind them until he chuckled at the man's ramblings. Jessica opened her eyes and fear rushed through her, gluing her to the ground. Her forehead wrinkled as she watched Brent turn to face Mick Taylor with a large smile on his face as if Mick was still just the simple man that had helped them get off the road. She tried to speak, but words escaped her as she watched Mick finger at the hard strap that held his rifle against his back. Her chest heaved in fear as Brent held his hand up in the air to wave at Mick. She watched as Mick gave her an amused, knowing glance.

"Hey man," Brent announced, "the truck almost ready to-"

Brent quickly shut up as he watched Mick pull out his knife, blood painted the stainless steel as he held it in his hand, inspecting it as if it were some sort of strange, new contraption.

"Whoa," Brent said as he held out his hands in an attempt to show that he had no intentions of fighting him like he had done many times when he was about to be on the receiving end of a well thrown fist, "No disrespect, man. I just-"

Mick lashed out at him. Jessica allowed a scream to escape her as she watched the tips of Brent's fingers fall to the ground at his feet. She tried to move, but the fear held her in place. Something had taken over her body and left her immobile. All the strength inside of her to fight escaped her. Mick's horrendous chuckle rippled through the air as Brent cried out.

"Ay now don't go crying," Mick announced and pointed at Jessica with his bloodied knife, "I got whacked in the back of me head and ya don't hear me crying, do ya?!"

Brent cried as he backed away from Mick. He tripped upon his feet as he moved behind Jessica who still stood frozen in front of the murderer. He cried and held his wrist as his warm blood flowed freely out of the stubs where the tips of his fingers once stood.

"She's worth money! Take her!"

A shiver of noticeable fear rippled through her body as she watched him wipe Brent's blood off of his blade. She felt Brent's hand on her upper back and then felt him push against her, throwing her into Mick's arms. She felt shock as her hands moved to stop herself from making contact with the murderous man, but failed miserably as her body melds in with his. She fell into him and could smell the sweat and blood on his flannel shirt as she made physical contact with him. She felt sick as his arms reached out to her to steady her shaking body. She looks up at him and he smiles down at her, taking in her big pastel green eyes that hint at the complete terror that is bubbling within her. His hands pull her away from him momentarily as he turned to watch Brent attempting to escape with a pleased expression upon his face.

"He's a jumpy lil frog isn't he," Mick said with a soft chuckle as he pulled his rifle around and pointed it at Brent's retreating form. The boy's head was in his line of sight as his trigger finger happily pulled against the trigger.

"Don't," Jessica begged and threw herself at Mick. She shoved the gun downwards just as the bullet left the barrel. The sound erupted with a loud pop and echoed off the tin buildings. The sound of Brent's scream rushed through her ears and a sense of loss and failure quickly rushed through her shaking body.

Brent cried in pain as he tried to move but failed. The bullet from Mick's rifle had lodged into his spine, blood poured out from his back as he lay paralyzed on the cold ground. He could move his eyes and his upper body. He tried to pull himself on the ground with his hands, but the pain was too excruciating with each movement. His breath was coming in short bursts as tears escaped him.

Jessica's eyes were filled with horror. Milton had been almost a sympathy murder on Mick's part; Brent was going to be tortured to death. She knew he was sick enough to torture a paralyzed man. His moans echoed in her ear as she looked over to Mick who was now glaring at her. The way he stared down at her sent the small hairs on her arms and neck stand straight up. Her stomach fell as he moved towards her humming in his own excitement.

"You don't have to do this. Just let me go. I won't tell," her tired voice pleaded as she shook her head, she backed away from him slowly as he continued approaching her like a carnivorous predator closing in on the wounded gazelle. She backed away from him as he stepped closer. It was a dance that she had no intention of being a part of.

Mick snickered at her pleas and reached out for her. He pulled her by a thin wrist to him with great strength. He closed the distance between them and held her in his arms tightly as she tried to fight against him, but with no luck. With each shove and push she made, he hugged her tighter like a constrictor to control her. He pulled her in his arms towards the car garage.

"No," she cried as he threw her into the ground. Her hip bone bit into the cement floor and the few glass shards that had fallen on their side bit into her hands as she threw them in front of her to protect her head from the fall.

Mick listened in sick fascination as she groaned and tried to push herself from the ground. He snaked his hands into her thick blonde hair and gripped it tightly. He quivered in excitement as she screamed out in pain as he pulled her to her knees, her nails clawed into his hand as he jerked her towards the wall where a wooden beam formed the corner.

"You don't wanna play eh," he seethed as he shoved Jessica's head into the hard wood. The sound of her groans pushed him even further in his blood lust as he shoved her head into the bean over and over again.

"That's for fuckin' stabbin' me in the fuckin' back and whackin' me in the head," Mick yelled at her as he allowed her to fall on the ground for only a moment.

The Australian jerked her to her feet. Her knees were like jelly as he held her up. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Her world was spinning from the blows to her head. She was limp in his arms as she tried to look up at him. She felt like a drunken college student as she looked up helplessly at the murderous man that held her up. She tried to fight against him, but the dizziness lowered her strength. His hat fell from his head as he jerked her closer to him to reveal to her a head of thick grey hair.

"Now," he whispered as he looked into her glassy pastel green eyes, her head was limp and her blonde hair fell freely around her as if she were a broken doll in his arms and the thought of her in that position excited him and sent a powerful sensation through his lower parts, "let's talk about our little situation here," he pushed her limp body around so her back was against his chest, he placed his chin on her shoulder and whispered, "I can't let ya go runnin' off again, ya know? I'm gonna have to do something to keep ya still."

Jessica allowed her head to loll back against his shoulder and groaned in pain as she felt his hand tapping on her lower abdomen were he had engraved her. She could feel his manhood against her as his hand slipped under her dress and cupped her left breast. The buttons on her dress popped off and rolled across the cement floor. The sound of the buttons on the floor was like the loud banging of the judge's gavel after being sentenced to death, it was the sound of impending doom. She shivered as his calloused fingers massaged her breast with slight pressure, causing an unwanted sensation to ripple through her lower half. She could feel the acidic bile growing in her stomach as he continued to caress her.

"Please," she whispered with a shaky tone. Her body was beginning to falter under the stress and exhaustion as he held her up.

"It's a little trick they used to use in the Vietnam war," he whispered in her ear as he pulled his bloodied knife out of its sheath on his hip once again, "so they could take prisoners and still get the same information out of them, but the little bastards wouldn't escape, ya with me Jessica?!"

Jessica groaned at his words as the memories of the horrible acts that had been performed on Africans entered her mind. Men, women, and children had been mutilated or decapitated if they saw or heard the wrong things or if they refused a demand from a war lord. The savage behavior found in some segments in her home land had followed her to Australia in the form of an Outback kangaroo hunter.

"Now this little procedure," Mick informed her as he felt her heart in her chest quicken in pace, "is called makin' a head on a stick," he held the knife behind his back as he readied himself to stab her in the spine like he had done to many women many times before, he held her tight against him, "because once your spine is severed in just the right-"

"_Don't let him cripple you!"_

Panic rippled through her. Jessica knew she would be a goner if he paralyzed her. She'd never be able to escape him and she'd be his slave for the short duration of her life. She gave up hope of trying to fight him. She knew she had to be seemingly submissive to survive. She'd tried running, and here she was in his grasp with his hand cupped tightly around her breast.

"Please don't," she begged through the grogginess that was coming from deep within her as she forced her hand to touch his under her blouse, she took control of his movements upon her breast and forced a convincing sigh of ecstasy to escape her as she leaned into his chest, "I'll play. I'll play with you."

Mick smiled at her husky tone and brought the blade to her throat. He pushed blonde locks away from her throat and allowed the sharp blade to dance across her skin. Jessica could see her frightened reflection in the sharp, bloodied blade. Her face was gaunt from days of malnutrition and lack of sleep, sweat beaded down her throat and dampened her hair as she swallowed the sob that begged to escape her. Her hand fell away from his as she stood still in his grasp as she awaited his next move. She was playing chess with a monster and she had no idea what his rules of the game were.

"We don't need ya head to play," he informed her with a malicious chuckle as the blade slowly teased at her pale throat, "What if I cut your fuckin' head right off, hmm," he looked down at her heaving chest and added, "What if I cut your tits off?"

"_He wanted you to call him daddy. Play his game. Get dirty."_

She felt him pull her back around to face him. His greying hair glittered in the artificial light as she looked into his eyes, readying herself to play his sick, twisted game.

"I'll play with you Daddy," she whispered in exhaustion, "I'll do whatever you tell me," she paused as the hunting knife moved close to her eye, her pastel eyes widened in worry, but she continued on, "If you cut my head and tits off, all you'll be doing is fucking a corpse," she closed her eyes as she sucked on her next words that she desperately did not want to speak, "I can be more than just a piece of pussy to fuck," she sighed, "You can play with me, Daddy."

She hated herself as the words escaped her. She'd never allowed someone to have so much power over her. It had taken being drugged for Jackie to subdue her. It had taken very little for Mick Taylor to bring her to her knees.

Mick chuckled as he took in her conniving pastel green eyes. There was a sparkle there that told him that she was still a conniving wild cat from Africa. In one swift sweep, he allowed the sharp blade to cut across her cheek. Blood poured out of the deep, long cut that he had bestowed upon her right cheek. He heard the gasp escape her and he quickly jerked her close to him. Bloodlust seemed to overtake him as he felt her moving against him. His fingers lurched into her hair and she held her head still. He closed in on her and his tongue licked at her free flowing blood that fell down her cheek.

Jessica sighed one last time before her body fell limp in his arms and her world went dark.

Mick Taylor watched as her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Her head fell backwards and her legs went lip. He pulled her up a bit more and watched as her lids fluttered ever so slightly. Blood fell down her cheek and stained her pale throat. She was a white rose in his grip with the blood of a virgin's pricked finger falling down upon its petals.

The fun with his little girl from Africa had just started to begin.


	8. Dressing the Pig

**Chapter 8: Dressing the Pig**

**This chapter is a tad bit more violent than previous chapters.**

* * *

Jessica's lids were heavy as cinder blocks as she forced them open. Small shards of glass bit into her elbows as she lay on the cold floor. The first rays of sunlight rushed across the Australian Outback to chase the sins of the night away. The sky was covered in grey clouds; the night was lurching on like a clinging lover in the early morning hours. Jessica felt like her soul had escaped her, her strength fell away from her like water through her hands as she forced herself to wake up. Her head was woozy as she forced herself to take in her surroundings. Hot flashes of pain rippled through her body from the multiple wounds that she had received from the crazed hunter. A slight draft rippled through her stained white dress and she soon realized that he had pulled off her ripped bra and panties, though she could feel that he thankfully hadn't assaulted her during her unconsciousness.

The horrible sound of Mick Taylor's hum entered through her ear canal and danced within her mind as her weak eyes looked up to him. Dried blood stained her face and took on a brownish color as the early morning sun peered through the cracks and windows of the garage that she had been held in before. She could feel the tight plastic binds tied around her wrists. Her cheek was swollen and the ripped flesh burned with each tiny movement that she made.

"About time ya woke up," Mick said with a chuckle as he looked down at his green eyed captive. He gave her a wicked grin as she glared up at him with sad, tired eyes, "I's gonna wake ya, but it looked like ya needed the rest," his eyes sparkled with dark intention as he looked upon her battered body, "You're gonna need it with what I got planned for ya."

Wrinkles painted her forehead and the hint of pain stitched across her bloody face as she pushed herself up from the floor and into a slouching position with her head and shoulders slouched against the wooden wall. The soft tunes of an old rock ballad emitted from a battery operated radio from somewhere nearby along with the muffled cries of a man.

Jessica didn't speak as she looked up to her captor. Mick stood tall in the morning light with his hunting knife hanging on his hip. She could see blood stains in the checkers on his plaid shirt and she felt anger bubble inside of her. The muffled cries grew louder and louder until she was forced to search for the owner of the horrible sounds.

Her eyes widened as she took in the bloodstained man hanging upside down in only his pants. Brent's bloody, dirt stained shirt lay forgotten on the ground as he dangled from his feet by a thick brown rope. Her eyes twitched as she watched blood drip from the many shallow stab wounds that littered his body.

"He should be thankin' ya Jessie," Mick informed her as he pointed to the dangling victim, "He don't feel a thing from his neck down thanks to your little intervention," he chuckled as he turned his attentions back to Jessica, "Ay and I should be thankin' you too. You kept the bugger from crawlin' off on me!"

She closed her eyes and felt guilt come over her as Brent's muffled cries of pain echoed in the garage. She wanted to pull herself from the floor and help him, but she couldn't make herself move from her place on the floor. The exhaustion from all the horrible ordeals had finally caught up with her and rendered her useless in a moment that she needed every ounce of strength inside of her. She couldn't find the strength to save Brent or herself. She was at the mercy of Mick Taylor.

"Who are you man," Brent's frightened voice asked as he swung in the air.

Jessica opened her eyes and watched as Mick moved towards her previous captor. He pulled the hunting knife from its holster on his hip and allowed the boy to see the glint from the silver blade just as he had done to Jessica when she was in a similar predicament.

Mick smiled at the paralyzed pot head's question and placed his free hand upon his hip as he replied with pride, "Mick Taylor's the name, pig shooter and Outback legend."

Jessica's blood ran cold at his words. His name finally triggered a memory from the past. She had remembered seeing a man on the news that had almost been given a life sentence for killing two English girls only a few years before. The man had told reporters that the man's name was Mick. She felt an impending doom sit on her chest as she recalled the details that the man had given about his own torture at the hands of the man. Tears fell down her cheeks and a sob filled her chest, but it refused to escape, instead it suffocated her with dread and fear.

"Look man," Brent cried, his tone was fast as his words blended together from fear, "I won't tell anyone. You can keep the girl. She's worth millions, bro! You can have it all. Just let me go and I won't tell. I promise."

She cringed as she watched Mick lurch his hands out to grab on to Brent's head. The knife was at his throat as he glared down at Brent. Jessica felt the paralyzing fear come over her again. She wanted to get up. She wanted to run, but her body was fighting her brain. All sense of worry for Brent left her when he tried to make a deal against her life. Fear for her own life bubbled inside of her.

"Now ya know how I know ya aren't goin' to tell," Mick asked and smiled at his male victim, "Huh?"

"Please man," Brent begged, "don't kill me."

"Why are you doing this," Jessica heard herself ask with a shaky, tired voice.

Mick turned his attention away from the boy and onto her for only a moment. He took in her tired eyes and watched as her chest subtly moved up and down with every breath she took. The cool morning air had hardened her nipples and his smile grew as he recalled the intimate details of the goodies that she kept hidden under her dress. He turned his attentions back on his current victim; he didn't want to be distracted by Jessica's exhausted body for too long. He didn't want Brent to bleed out on him before he deemed it necessary.

"Ya hear that," he asked loudly with a giggle as he looked into Brent's dilated eyes, "The little lady wants to know why," he shook his head and added with a lower tone, "Well, I tell ya why. You and your other filth," he placed the blade at Brent's chest, "come into my country and waltz around like ya own the bloody place and bring in foreign vermin and jus' dump 'em out. Then ya think you can just walk away."

Jessica swallowed the fear that was bubbling inside of her as she watched his knife dangle over the boy's throat. She was foreign vermin to him, nothing more.

"It's up to my kind to wipe her kind out," Mick informed Brent with a dangerous tone as he pointed to his new toy, "and you brought her into my territory all the while thinkin' I wouldn't catch her."

"I didn't want-"

"Sh, sh, sh, sh," Mick answered, "It's okay. You brought me a head turner so I can forgive ya this once. The girls that are easy on the eyes are the best fucks you've ever had! She looks like she can last months," he allowed his vicious laugh to escape him as he stared darkly at Jessica who was breathing hard, the dirty fabric moved ever so slightly in an effort to tease him, "What do you think, ay?"

Jessica's brows furrowed as she watched the salty tears escape Brent's eyes.

"You're sick, fucking sick! Sick fuck," Brent screamed as he dangled helplessly as Mick smiled at the observation.

Mick moved the knife across Brent's bare stomach and placed it just below his belly button. He smiled as he watched the man shiver from the sharpness of the blade.

"You wanna know how ya gut a pig," Mick asked with a level tone. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jessica shifted herself on the ground, he smiled at her and added, "You can learn too, Green Eyes…if ya can handle it."

"Please man, please don't," he begged as he watched the Australian with teary eyes.

"Ya see you usually start with the back end," Mick informed him, "but I prefer just to get to the messy bit first, ya know," the knife grazed across the boy's belly, "Now, to dress a pig you have to start cuttin' at the bottom of the belly. You gotta be careful though, ya know because you don't want the guts to go everywhere. The smell's awful!"

Jessica shivered as she watched Mick tease Brent.

"Then you gotta break the ribs," Mick continued on with his torturous teasing, "until ya get to the-"

"If you're going to kill him then do it," Jessica heard herself demand in a harsh tone that seemed foreign to her, "If you're going to do something then fucking do it! Don't jerk him around!"

She shrunk backwards as she watched his gaze dart to her. A dark smile crossed his face and she felt like an ant under a microscope. She wanted to crawl away in that moment but her tired body would not allow it.

"Ya hear that," Mick asked with a chuckle as he turned his dark gaze away from her and back to Brent, "Your little hero says I can go ahead and off ya. What do you think about that?!"

Jessica watched Brent crying. A sense of anger overcame her as she watched him cry. He'd wanted her to be in his place and he had tried begging Mick to let him go. She was still just a pawn in their scheme. Brent wasn't redeemable. He wasn't like Milton. He only cared about his own skin.

The sound of ripping flesh and Brent's screams and gags ripped through the air, breaking Jessica's momentary harshness. The sound of Brent's blood flowed like a rushing river out of his body to stain the cement floor. The metallic smell of his blood wafted through the air as Mick dug the knife deeper into Brent's abdominal cavity, all the while being careful not to bust open any of the intestines.

Jessica gagged as Mick broke Brent's rib cage. She watched as dark crimson blood painted his hairy arms and distorted his tattoos. She forced her eyes away just as Mick ripped the knife out of Brent's abdominal cavity and then slit Brent's throat which rendered him voiceless. The blood fell from the boy's throat like a waterfall. The boy gagged until the last of his blood dripped out of him.

"And that's how ya dress a fuckin' pig," Mick announced happily as he stood away from the bloody scene to take in his violent work of art. He ignored the sounds of Jessica's soft sobs as he wiped the sticky blood from his hands with an old oil rag that he had previously thrown upon the hood of an old car nearby.

Mick turned to look back at his surviving white African. He smiled as she crouched into herself, pulling her legs to her body where he could see the upper flesh of her ass. He wanted to jerk her off the ground and take her in front of this bloody carcass, but she had been right when she said that she'd be more fun alive. He watched as she slipped into shock as she cradled herself as the blood puddle expanded towards her boots.

Mick threw the now bloody rag away from him and moved to the girl. He pulled her up. She surprised him, he'd half expected that she'd fight against him, but she allowed him to pull her to him. She didn't speak to him. Her pastel eyes seemed clouded as he looked her over; her lips trembled from the fear that was coursing through her.

"Now Jessica," Mick said as he ran his dirty hand through her blonde hair and cupped the base of her head, "We're gonna go for a little ride now," he watched as she blinked ever so slowly before she looked up at him with sad, defeated eyes, "I don't want you to do anything stupid. Can you do that for me?"

Jessica's brows furrowed as she looked into his eyes. A cool wind rippled between the two of them as she nodded her answer. Tears stained her cheeks as she looked up to the mad man that held her up.

"That's a good girl," Mick answered proudly, "Ya already makin' daddy happy."

She allowed him to lead her forward, away from the mess that he had created, and towards a black Mustang that stood on the opposite end of the building. Broken shards of glass crumbled into tinier shards under her boots as he lightly pushed her forward. She closed her eyes as she was lead to her ultimate death. She felt completely helpless as his soiled hands remained between her shoulder blades, pushing her forward.

Mick opened the passenger door for her and watched with interest as she forced herself into the car that was now the ambulance rushing her to the location of her eventual death.

Jessica ignored him as he took his place on the driver's side and started the muscle car. The engine roared and shook her ever so slightly. She slouched in the seat and looked out of the window as they backed away from the mining camp that had been the sight of too many midnight horrors. The sun was now peeking over the land as they set off into the distance, into the dark future. She felt an overwhelming need to sleep come over her, but she could feel Mick's eyes on her tired, bruised, and bloody body. She fought the need for sleep as the car bobbed up and down from small pot holes in the road.

The last thought in her mind was about Jackie and what torture Mick had placed him through. She had found Johnny's body being eaten by dogs, Milton was killed mercifully, Brent was gutted like a hog, and she was being whisked away by a crazed murderer.

What had Mick done to her rapist?

* * *

**I really hope I am keeping Mick in character. I'm trying really hard on this story so I hope I'm being true to him. **

**Reviews would be nice :)**


	9. Jack in the Box

**Chapter 9: Jack in the Box**

**This is the longest chapter so far. I hope you like it. I don't know how I feel about it. **

**Warning: there is smut in this chapter. There was originally a lot more smut but I edited it out because I didn't like the flow of things. **

* * *

Mick Taylor felt the road ripple through the steering wheel. The morning air blew through the rolled down windows. Sweat began to bead down his forehead as the sun rose higher in the sky. His eyelids felt heavy from lack of sleep as the car continued forward through the Outback. His eyes lingered on the dirty flesh of the woman that slept in the passenger seat beside him. The skirt of her white dress rose ever so slightly to show her upper thigh as she lay against the door. Her breathing was labored, the tooth on her necklace glittered in the sunlight with each breath she took. Her brows furrowed as her face distorted slightly from the horrors of whatever dream that was occurring inside of her mind.

He had found that he was interested in seeing what she would do once she was well rested. The green eyed toy that slept near him could last for more than a few months if he treated her better than the rest. Of course, he would still take what he wanted when he wanted it just like he did with the others but he could treat her better.

She didn't have to lose her head if she believed that he wasn't going to kill her. He could condition her to do as he said with a simple command just like a new dog, then he could make her do anything.

A smile grew across his face as he listened to whimpers escape her sleeping form. He knew she was dreaming about the hell that she'd lived through for the past few days or what hell he could put her through. The thought of how she had already arrived tortured tug at his mind. She'd survived being tortured by that Jack in the Box and his gang and she had survived him. She'd convinced him not to kill her.

The thought of her leaning against him sent ripples of desire through him. She'd melded perfectly into his body when she leaned into him and allowed him to caress her. She'd felt fragile and in need of being broken against his hard body. That aspect of what was to come caused a larger smile to overtake his tired features.

She sighed and the simple noise perked his ears. The tattoo on her arm looked up at him as she moved ever so slightly to find a more comfortable position. He had asked her what the ink signified and she had told him; all his other victims had been too busy fighting at their binds or screaming and crying their heads off to answer, but she had answered him with a tale of her boyfriend who had been killed by a dangerous animal.

His new toy was certainly interesting. She'd compared him to an African war lord (which he wasn't too happy about being compared to some black beast) with angry words. Questions popped into his mind about whether she had actually run across a war lord before along with so many others. He'd never had a tourist that knew how to survive the night in the Outback. She'd impressed him with how she didn't try to steal a car and escape. Too many others had done that before.

He was excited to see his new toy try to escape him again. He couldn't wait to break her and bend her to his will just like the ones before, but she would be a better ride than the other women.

...

Men and women of different assortments had searched for Jessica Muldoon throughout the Outback for days. Helicopters and airplanes had moved across sections were police officials had believed she'd been taken based on the cellphones that her captors had.

They'd found nothing. It was as if Jessica and her captors had disappeared into thin air.

Faith was running low within the many search teams that had formed to find the American's daughter. It was running low in everyone but Amy, Jessica's oldest African friend who had flown in as soon as she heard the news about Jessica's disappearance in Australia.

In the overbearing morning sun, dark skin glistened with sweat as Amy walked beside Sally, Jessica's mother. The small group continued forward throughout their search while Robert Muldoon had taken to the skies with the Australian search and rescue team. Amy towered over Sally as they listened to the men and women call Jessica's name.

"I heard a man saying that this was just a body recovery mission now," Sally whispered mournfully as the two women walked together, "He said only a small percentage of people that are lost in the Outback are found."

"You can't think like that," Amy answered, her African accent was thick, as she turned to look at her friend's mother, "Jessica is a survivor. She's got this. She made it back home after being lost-"

"This isn't Africa," Sally interrupted with a harsh tone, her eyes filled with mournful rage, "My baby is all alone in this hellhole and I was the one that sent her here."

"Jessica is a fighter," Amy reassured her as someone called out the missing's name, "She's not going to let those men break her. She has the heart of a lion."

"Those men," Sally whispered with a sob bubbling just under her surface, "I heard the officers telling Jessica's father that the men that took her are violent men. She can't-"

"Jessica's more than what you think," Amy revealed softly, "She's a hyena. Something happened to her when we were," she stopped and looked to Sally whose eyes had softened as they both recalled the violent rape that Amy had suffered at the hands of a war lord, "when the war lords came to the camp. She's got a mean streak in her that rivals Gustave. Jessica is a cunning hyena."

...

Jessica jerked out of her bloody nightmare filled with the screams of her previous captors and the sounds of hyena laughter. Her tired body was slouched against the car door; spit fell from her chapped lips from the effects of the deep sleep that had taken over her involuntarily. She hadn't planned on falling asleep while in his clutches. She had wanted to be able to find her way out of the hell that she had found herself in once she had found a way to escape him. The car tires rumbled across the dirt road, dust flew in all directions behind them. She could hear the small rocks of the road flying from the speed of the car. The windows were rolled down in a half assed attempt to cool the old car in the rising sun. The hot air whipped her stained blonde hair about in a wild fashion as they raced across the Outback dirt road.

The sun bore down on them and she looked towards the radio clock. The digital numbers glared back at her with a blinking 10:05. She'd been asleep for hours. The muscles in her body ached as if she had overexerted herself in the gym. She didn't want to move anymore, each hole the car hit was another ache in her sore body.

She slowly turned her attentions on to the driver of the car, Mick Taylor, her new captor. She watched his hands, blood caked between the skin of his fingers and his nails, tap on the steering wheel to the old rock tune that was playing low on the radio. Her eyes trailed up his arms, taking in his numerous tattoos that had been faded from the sun and the thick ocean of hair that covered them, to his face. She took his excited face in with great detail. He hummed to the tune on the radio and if she were in any other situation, she would think of him as a sane man enjoying the radio instead of a psycho who had killed four men and kidnapped her.

'_You haven't seen Jackie yet. He could still be alive. That would be some shit if he survives this and you don't!'_

"I know who you are," Jessica forced herself to say as she watched Mick turn to her.

"Well the princess opens her eyes again," Mick answered with a smile as he watched her stare at him with those intense pastel green eyes that bore into him, "You haven't missed much. Just some ol' 'roos," Mick turned his full attention on her, taking his eyes off the empty road, "Ya know they-"

"I know who you are," she stated again, her voice was soft as she kept her eyes keenly on him, "I remember from the TV. Do you know what they call you?"

Jessica waited for his reply, but he simply watched her as the wind tossed her blonde locks about.

"They call you the Backpack Killer," she informed him with a soft sigh of pain, with each word she spoke a pain rippled through her cheek, "That kid that got away, he-"

Mick chuckled at her words, "Ah I remember that little bastard. He was traveling with those two English cunts. That Krissy was really something," he turned to her and winked, "we would have been great together."

A twitch tugged at Jessica's brow as pain rippled through her tired body. The exhaustion that had previously rendered her motionless had faded from the few hours of sleep that Mick had allowed her to have.

'_He let you sleep. He wants you to have your strength back. He's letting you recover so he can destroy you without Jackie's influence. It's all about him destroying you.'_

Jessica had been in his presence for two days and she was running out of strength to fight against him. He'd outsmarted every move she made. He'd known that she would go back to the mining camp. He'd known where she was hiding in the garage. He knew every move that she had made! Anger and disgust rippled through her bruised body.

A smile crossed her features to her own surprise as she looked at the sadistic killer beside her. She knew who he was, but he only knew the tip of the iceberg when it came to who she was. She was more than just the governor's daughter.

Mick watched the small smile pull at her chapped and bloodied lips. It brought a sparkle to her tired eyes. None of his victims had ever smiled in his presence before unless he cut them a smile. Her smile was electric.

"What the bloody hell you smilin' on 'bout," he asked with interested amusement.

"I know who you are, Mick Taylor," she answered, her accent littered her words as her smile slowly faded away as she looked out the window. Thoughts of escaping the notorious Outback killer rippled through her mind. She had tried to run from him and to fight him, but it hadn't panned out. She was going to have to take a different tactic with Mick Taylor, though she didn't know what she would do.

She'd play his games. She'd be the perfect captive, then she'd make her move against him when the time came, whatever move that would be. She'd need time to figure it out, time that she could run out of at any time.

His hand jerked towards her. The car swerved on the dirt road as he jerked her towards him. She yelped from the sudden jerk and looked up to him to see him looking down at her with a dangerous, lusty gleam in his eyes.

"Daddy's feeling a bit frisky," Mick informed her as he looked down at the crotch of his jeans, "How 'bout you fix it for me, ay Jessie?"

Jessica swallowed the fear and anger that rippled inside of her. If she did do what he asked of her, she could bite him. It would be a small victory, but a victory that would result in a violent death she knew.

"Please don't make me," she stopped midsentence as she watched him withdraw his knife from its holster. The sunlight reflected off the sharp blade as it came into view and cut the binds on her wrists.

She looked up at him and nodded her head in agreement. She swallowed her pride as she forced herself to perform the deed that he wished to be performed. She lowered herself on the seat and forced herself closer to his lap. Disgust bubbled inside of her as she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. The sound of his amused humming overtook the sounds of the song on the radio.

"Hold on now," Mick said as he stopped her with the tip of his knife, the blade caressed her throat and forced her gaze upwards, "No biting or I'll cut your head off. You get me?"

Jessica nodded and replied softly, "Yes."

She forced her thin hand under the folds of the thick, dirty fabric of his blue jeans and explored his growing manhood with each exploratory grope she made. She didn't pull him out fully; she didn't want to see him. Feeling his growing member was enough to send a feeling of disgust and self-hatred through her body. His pleased humming filled the car as she forced her hand to caress the length of his shaft. She could feel his hands move against her head, his fingers curled in the locks of her blonde hair, pulling tighter with each stroke she begrudgingly gifted him. He pressed a small bit of pressure upon her head and forced her towards his erection.

"Don't crash the car," she forced herself to say in an attempt to break his need for her, "I don't want to die with your prick in my mouth."

A chuckled escaped him as Jessica readied herself for the next step she would have to perform on him. She closed her eyes and held in the bile that bubbled inside of her stomach as she thought about putting him in her mouth.

A shattering shot ripped her away from him. The sound caused Mick to jerk and the car spun out of control. Jessica listened to him cuss as he tried to take back control of the car. She held on tight to the safety grip on the passenger side as the car came to a violent stop.

Jessica took a deep breath and looked over to Mick who was still cussing in anger as he put the car in park and turned the engine off. He quickly adjusted himself and zipped and buttoned his jeans back up before pulling the keys out of the ignition. She watched him get out of the truck with anger from the sudden interruption.

"Jesus Christ, Mick," she heard him yell in anger as he made his way towards the trunk, "Rule number two: make sure the fuckin' guns are unloaded!"

Confusion rippled through her as she watched him move towards the trunk of the Mustang. Her body moved of its own accord and she found herself walking towards the now opened trunk, a bullet hole looked back at her through the opened metal trunk. She could hear muffled cries escaping the trunk as she edged closer to Mick who was looking inside the trunk with his hands on his hips.

"I saved ya a little gift," Mick answered as he pointed to the man inside the trunk as Jessica appeared by his side.

Jessica looked into the trunk to see Jackie hogtied in the trunk with a cloth bag over his head. She watched silently as Mick cut the rope around Jackie's legs and pulled him out of the trunk. Jackie's curses were muffled by the duct tape over his mouth as he tried to fight against Mick's grasp.

Mick grabbed the pistol in the trunk that had fired off inside the trunk from Jackie's movements from inside.

She felt nothing for the man that had kidnapped her and raped her multiple times as Mick shoved him forward with the business end of the pistol. Anger rippled through her as she watched Jackie struggle against the Australian.

Jessica stood behind Mick as she watched him rip the cloth bag off of Jackie's head and force him to his knees. She watched as fear and anger rippled through his features as he took in her appearance behind Mick Taylor.

Mick turned to Jessica who stood several feet away from him and signaled for her to step closer, "Come stand on my sinister side, Jessica."

She shivered at his demand and did as he said. She took a few steps towards him and took her place to the left of him. She could see anger growing inside Jackie as he realized he was helpless in the situation that he had found himself in.

"Listen man," Jackie began as Mick held the gun in his hand, "you can't trust this fucking bitch. She's just a hot piece of ass."

Mick laughed at Jackie's attempt to save his own skin. He turned to Jessica to see the anger beginning to boil inside of her

"We can take turns on her, I can share. We can tag team this cunt. Just shoot her full of drugs and man, I'm tellin' ya, she can't fight you," Jackie stated as he looked up to Mick and shook his head, "She's good pussy. I've done her a few times and let me tell you-"

"Did me," Jessica asked in anger as she pushed passed Mick and stood in front of Jackie, anger seethed inside of her as she punched him with the bit of strength that she had gained from her few hours of sleep , "DID ME?! You fucking raped me you piece of shit! It's your fault I am out here!"

She slapped him again as tears fell down her cheeks and burned the cut on her cheek. The rage bubbled inside of her as she listened to Jackie call her horrible names while Mick's eyes bore into her back at the display of rage that was emitting from her. She ignored the blood that fell from his lips and nose from the ferocity of her onslaught.

Mick felt a proud sensation come over him as he listened to the crack of Jackie's jaw with the strong blows she was gifting him with. The rage that he was watching was almost animalistic. He could hear the angry, primordial grunts, that she tried so hard to conceal, escaping out of her as she screamed at him.

"Alright, alright," Mick heard himself intervene and placed a hand upon her shoulder to pull her away from him, "I think ya taught him."

Jessica took a deep breath as she tried to contain the rage that rattled inside her chest like a lion trying to burst free. She turned to face her new captor and shook her head. The rage stormed within her eyes as she glared at him. A sense of red overcame her vision and the pain from her wounds lay forgotten. All sense of right and wrong escaped her as she felt the rage rushing through her bruised body.

"No," she hissed as she looked down at the pistol and then back up at Mick as a pleading gleam brightened the storm that was raging in her green orbs, "Let me do it," she shook her head as she pleaded with tears welling up in her eyes, "Please."

"Don't listen to this bitch," Jackie slurred as he spit blood out of his mouth. He looked up at the two dangerous humans that stood above him.

Mick eyed her carefully with steely eyes. The ferocity that she had just bestowed upon her previous captor could easily be place on him if he were to give her too much freedom. He turned her around and held the gun in front of her.

Jessica wasn't aware of his chest against her back or his breath on the thin flesh of her neck as she took ahold of the old metal of the pistol. Her fingers cradled the trigger while Mick held a firm grip on her wrists. The only thing she could see was her rapist in front of her, all she could think about was how he had drugged her and beat the living hell out of her when she had first been taken.

"No you wanna line-"

"I know how it works," Jessica said as she pulled the trigger over and over again until the rounds had been emptied into Jackie's skull. The first shot hit him just under his right eye, the second was under his left eye, and the last shot was dead center of his forehead.

Mick felt the tense hold she had on the weapon fade and her body shake for only a moment. He smiled at her and felt a sense of bewilderment come over him. She'd shot a man without second guessing herself like it was natural. Mick looked down at the body of Jackie and watched as blood rushed out of the three holes that she had placed in his head.

"Look at that," Mick whispered into her ear with pride, "You're a natural!"

Mick pulled on the gun, but she didn't release.

Jessica closed her eyes as she kept a grip on the gun. She felt the rage slowly fading out of her tired body as she inhaled deeply.

"Now hand over the gun Jessica," she heard Mick demand as his grip on her wrists tightened. The red haze that had come over her quickly disappeared. She was now fully aware of his chest up against her back and his hot breath dancing across her neck. The realization sent a cold shiver down her back. She'd been so preoccupied with ending Jackie's life that she had forgotten about her current captor.

"Jess," Mick said in a soft, warning tone as he placed his large, blood caked hands over her freshly bloodstained ones.

Jessica allowed her grip to fall limp as she gave up hope of bashing his skull in.

"That's a good girl," Mick announced happily as he turned away from her. He watched as she looked down at the man she had shot down. He had a new found respect for her. She had shot a man that was begging. He'd been begged countless times and had just ended the beggar's life in the same coldhearted, detached way that she had.

"Come on now," Mick said with a soft tone, "get in the car. We're almost home now."

Jessica turned to him and walked toward him with her eyes focused on the tips of her boots, small bloodstains looked up at her from the scuffed leather of her boots. She silently and obediently did as he demanded and sat in the passenger seat. She closed her eyes as he slammed the door on her and walked to the driver's side.

Her heart beat as if it were trying to escape as she listened to Mick take his place in the driver's seat and start the car.

"Jessica, we are gonna have to talk about that little stunt," he started to say, but she looked at him and shook her head as tears fell from her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she bit her lip and fought back the onslaught of tears, "please don't hurt me anymore. I can't take any more pain."

"Come here Jessica," he demanded with a turn of his head directing her to come sit beside him.

"What," she asked with a shaky voice and looked to him as he leaned back in his seat. Cold fear rushed through her body as she watched him pat his knees lightly.

"Sit in my lap," he demanded as he stretched his arms across the seat. He watched her closely as swallowed the fear that he could see bubbling in her green eyes that once held so much anger.

Jessica didn't move. She stared at him absently with furrowed brows.

"Now Jessica, I'm in a good mood," he informed her as if he were a tired father speaking to his young, hyper child, "don't make me ask again."

She closed her eyes momentarily as she stood on her knees and carefully pulled herself into his lap. The car honked from her rear end colliding in with the steering wheel. She shivered as that horrible amused chuckle escaped Mick. Her cheeks burned red as she situated herself in his lap. Her knees fell to either side of his thighs; she could feel the hard, dirty fabric of his jeans against her bare thighs as she settled herself onto his knees. She tugged on her dress to hide herself from him.

"No," Mick answered with a conniving smile that showed his shiny teeth, "really go full cowgirl, ya know what I mean?"

He kicked his knees up and down as one did with a young child who wanted to pretend a person's leg was a pony. He watched with an amused smile as her breasts bounced up and down along with the rest of her body until she slid further up his legs, stopping just above his crotch area.

"Now that feels better, don't it," Mick asked as he lowered his hands down to her thighs.

Jessica shivered as she felt his well-worn hands touch her bare skin once again. She held in the sob that wanted to escape her as his left hand slipped under her thigh and drew circles upon her inner thigh with his thumb. Her heart quickened in pace at the old familiar feeling that rushed through her as his rough thumb danced upon her flesh.

Mick's right hand moved to her hip slowly. The stain from his engravement had dried long ago and he smiled at her closed eyes just as he placed a hard pressure against the wound. He watched in horrific delight as she moaned in pain and fell forward as fresh blood rushed from the letter M that he had painted on her skin.

Jessica felt him lurch his hand on her back to hold her in her new place. She was now fully against him. The only thing between her womanhood and his manhood was the denim of his jeans from her new position against him. She placed her hands upon his chest in an attempt to push herself off of him, but his grip on her back was too strong for her weakened state.

"Please, don't do this," she cried as she felt his hand lowering back down to her hip.

"Don't worry your little head off. Daddy's goin' take real good care of ya," he informed her as he moved his hand closer to her womanhood. His hands touched against the small cuts in the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He feels the shiver that ripples through her and he quickly removes his hand away from her and places it lazily upon her hip.

Mick pulled her closer, her chest touched his and he could smell the intoxicating mixture of blood and sweat on her skin. He leaned inward and nipped at the thin flesh on her neck. He felt another shiver ripple through her and his nip turned into a bite and then a suck. The taste of salt from her sweat mixed in with the saliva on his tongue as he held her in place. His hands moved up the length of her body, caressing every inch of his new captive with his murderous hands. He could feel the soft pushing from her bloodied hands on his chest, but he continued with his nips and sharp bites on her throat while ignoring her silent protests. He nipped at her ear and smiled as he pulled away.

Having her around could be fun. The shivers that rushed through her were intoxicating and he'd only just begun. The thought of her being more than passive was an idea. Having her want him could happen if he played his cards right with her.

"I liked killing him," Jessica whispered as she felt his abuses cease.

Jessica felt him pull away from her. She watched as he looked up at her with a smile.

"I didn't like that I liked killing him," she admitted with lowered eyes, she felt disgusting admitting it to the man that was forcing her to sit in his lap and touching her like she was his own personal toy.

'_You are his toy now.'_

She closed her eyes and shook her hands as she began to babble from the result of the large amount of stress that had eaten at her for the last few days, she needed to admit these things, "When he said that I saw red and I couldn't think. I felt something that I haven't felt in a long time. I can't fight you anymore," she shook her head as tears fell freely, "I can't run. Don't make me suffer anymore. Just kill me and be done with it."

The admission meant something to her as she looked at her new captor. As she looked into his eyes, she thought of how she was going to kill him. She was going to wait him out. She was going to make him trust her. She was going to fuck him over like he had done to her. He was supposed to save her, not pull her back into Hell.

"Now listen here, Green Eyes," Mick informed her as he jerked her head down to his eye level, her forehead was against his and she starred into his evil eyes, his fingers dug into her cheeks, "I'm gonna go a bit easy on ya what with the," he glanced down at her spread thighs and then snapped his gaze back up to her green eyes, "condition I found ya in."

Her brows furrowed in slight confusion as his words registered in her mind. He wasn't going to rape her, well not yet anyways. With that thought, fear bubbled inside of her. The tears that fell from her eyes burned her cut on her cheek as she looked at the man that held her in place.

"Just to show you that I am not that bad a man," he informed darkly, the fear in her eyes sent a need throughout his body, "Ya with me on this?"

Jessica nodded in reply to his question. She felt the strong shove on her shoulder and then the harsh fabric on the car seat. Her legs came untangled from his as he pushed her away from him. She placed groaned from the pain as he put the car in drive and sped away from Jackie's remains, leaving them behind for the animals to eat.

"For now," Mick announced with a smile as he watched the dust fly, "we'll have a nice ol' time getting to know each other."

* * *

**So it was really hard keeping Mick in character through this chapter! It was so hard to make it believable for him to keep her alive while simultaneously having him torture her in different ways. I really, really hope I stayed true through this chapter.**


	10. Over the Threshold

**Chapter 10: Over the Threshold**

**So I was finally able to see Wolf Creek 2! Yay! **

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Jessica took a deep breath as her new captor drove to where ever it was that he considered home. She sighed softly as she tried to relax herself on the passenger seat beside Mick. She eyed him once again and sighed louder, hoping to catch his attention with her tired, pathetic noises.

It had been too silent between them since he shoved her off of him. The only sounds that filled the old car were that of the road and the soft tunes of old country songs which Mick occasionally hummed along with.

Nothing had been said and it seemed unnatural. She had listened to him speak to all of his victims. He enjoyed having conversations with his prey.

"Why here," she whispered as she realized that he wasn't going to break the silence between the, "Why this place? Why did it have to be you that found me?"

He turned to her and gave her a devilish smirk as he replied as if the answer were a matter of public knowledge, "Shit happens."

She rolled her eyes at his boorish reply, but nodded her head in agreement with his statement.

"Yeah shit happens," she replied, prodding at him, "I never wanted to come to this shithole country. Why when I have my own shithole of a country," she sighed as she looked noticed the sun shining off of the tin of an old farm house in the distance, "Brandon wanted to come here for our honeymoon," she stared up at her new found captor, "So much for honeymoon, huh Mick?"

'_Conversation is good. Keeps his mouth moving and maybe he won't try anything else.'_

"Well I wouldn't know 'bout that," he said as he wiped as he obnoxiously sucked in air through his nose, "Never had a honeymoon myself."

She closed her eyes as she thought about the wedding that she hadn't been able to be a part of. He was killed two weeks before their wedding day. They had planned on moving into their new home and getting settled in before coming to Australia for their honeymoon.

Then Brandon had died and all of their plans and dreams had been thrown into the river just as his ashes had been after his death was ruled as a horrible accident. She'd moved into their home and had laid in bed for days and days on end in a seemingly endless depression.

"Ya came to my country lookin' for adventure, did ya," Mick asked as the house came into closer view. Rust ate at the tin roof and the grey paint chipped from constant bombardment from the elements of the Outback.

"No. Africa is my home," she answered haphazardly as she sat up, groaning in pain as she did so, and looked over the house just as he pulled up to the large home. Her eyes took in the swinging wind chime on the porch and the little porch swing that sat swaying in the morning wind.

"You live here," she heard herself ask in slight shock.

'_He has to live somewhere! Why couldn't he live in a nice house? Don't you remember Norman Bates?!'_

"Oh ya know," Mick answered with a shrug of his shoulders as if he wasn't holding her hostage with the threat of death or the promise of unwanted sex, "I get around."

Jessica watched as he pulled himself out of the car. She watched with careful eyes as her captor ran his dirty hands through his oily, greying hair before he properly placed his hat back upon his head. She watched as he pulled the seat forward and removed his hunting rifle that he had hidden in the back seat the whole time.

She took a deep breath as fear bubbled inside of her chest. Being locked in a house with him could be a worse situation for her than trying to hide in the Outback, but she didn't have a choice in the matter. In order to survive, she'd have to remain in Mick Taylor's sadistic custody.

The pain from her abdomen and her cheek rippled through her as he jerked her out of the passenger side seat. She stumbled into him and could smell the rancid blood and sweat that riddled his body, and she could feel the heat that radiated from his vile body.

She groaned as the pain danced across her wounds and she heard Mick laugh at her like the bastard that he was. She doubled over from the pain in her abdomen. Her hand immediately clutched at the stained area. She prayed that the cuts hadn't widened or deepened from the vigorous amounts of movement that she had been put through in the last eight hours.

"What the fuck's wrong with you now," Mick asked as he jerked her up from her doubled over position.

"You mutilated my stomach and my face then slammed my head into a wall, remember," she reminded him as she daringly glared up at him. Her eyes sparkled with hatred. Her eyes were dry as if she had no more tears to cry for the events that had lead up to her being in his presence. The proud smile on his face sent a sickening impulse through her stomach and radiated through every cell in her body.

'_Don't push your fucking luck with him!'_

Mick chuckled at her words and quickly scooped his large arms around her thighs and chunked her over his left shoulder before she could protest the sudden movement. His chuckle quickly turned into his sadistic laughter as he listened to her moan and groan from the pressure that was being placed on his permanent gift to her. Her attempted punches in his back only caused him to gain more enjoyment from her thrashes against him.

"Now come on girlie," he announced happily as he slapped her playfully on the ass, "it's tradition!"

She stopped squirming at the sudden slap and looked to the rifle that he had dangled around his right shoulder. It dawned on her that squirming around near the business end of a rifle could be potentially hazardous to her livelihood.

Jessica bit her lip as he carried her to the front door of their temporary home. Blood rushed to her head from her newfound upside down position as he carried her over his shoulder that was biting into her permanent brand. She shivered as his hand caressed the curve of her thigh and moved upwards over her stained dress.

The door opened with a loud bang as it hit the wooden wall behind it. The smell of death and dust bombarded their senses as they

"Now," Mick announced as he stepped over the threshold and chunked her off of his shoulder, "like I said, it's tradition to carry the girl over the threshold on their weddin' day."

Jessica's back slammed into the wooden floor. Dust flew up around her as her brain rattled about in her skull from the sudden crash. She groaned from the pain that moved through her spine and she moved her head from side to side in an attempt to heed off the migraine that was soon to come rushing into her head.

"You son of a bitch," she cried as she attempted to push herself up from the floor. She could feel the dirt from the wooden floors bite into her elbows as she pushed herself up.

"Uh oh," Mick announced with a large smile that showed his dangerous, yellow teeth.

Jessica looked up to him to see the business end of the rifle glaring back at her. Her lip trembled as she looked passed the gun and up to him. His smile was cold, but his eyes were dilated from excitement. She swallowed the fear that was bubbling inside of her as she tried to collect her racing thoughts.

"So you bring me all the way out here just to put a bullet in my head," she asked as she positioned herself comfortably on her elbows and looked up to her captor.

"Of course not ya stupid bitch," he informed her as he moved the rifle away from her face, "We gotta lay some ground rules first."

"I'm listening," Jessica answered obediently, though her voice held a bitter edge that her father was known to use when being bombarded by rude media workers.

Mick leaned over and ripped her necklace from her neck and pocketed it, "The only one wieldin' a weapon is me. You got that? Now I don't wanna have to bind your hands again," he grinned wickedly at her, "You're too much fun!"

"Anything else," she asked in the same obedient yet bitter tone.

"Don't try to bloody fuckin' escape again," he answered as he sat the rifle against the wall as he shut the door behind him.

Jessica watched from her vulnerable position on the floor as he turned back to her with a wicked glint in his eyes. She could see the exhaustion from the night's chase and the early morning drive creeping upon the sun tanned skin of his face.

"What do we do now," she asked as she looked up at him.

"Get up," he demanded as he unbuttoned his flannel shirt.

She shook her head and backed up slightly as she watched him place himself into a more comfortable setting. She shivered as he reached out for her and pulled her off the dusty wooden floor.

"Wha-wh-what are you doing," she asked with a shaking voice as he pulled her away from the entrance of the abandoned house.

His dirty fingers dug into her arm as he pulled her to a bedroom in the back of the house. He could feel her shivers of fear and it spurred him forward.

"Mick," she pleaded, using his name for the first time since he revealed who he really was, "please don't do this. I can-"

"Get into bed," he demanded with dark smile.

Her lips trembled as she looked at the perfectly made bed. She looked back to Mick who was unbuckling his belt and throwing it into the corner. She backed away from his approaching figure and looked to the bed in fear.

"I'm not," she started to say as she hurried to find something to say as he approached her like the predator that he was, "I'm not ready for this," she shook her head back and forth and bit at her bottom lip, "Not yet."

Mick shoved her backwards and watched as she fell into the bed. He smiled as he watched her try to crawl across the bed; the blankets bunched with each movement that she made to escape him. He placed his knee upon the bed and reached out for her. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her back towards him. The fear was evident in her green orbs as he looked down on her and unbuttoned his jeans as part of a scare tactic that seemed to be working. He pulled his flannel shirt off and allowed it to fall to the floor.

"Mick-"

"It's bed time," Mick teased as he laid down on the pillow and pulled her towards him, "chasin' ya all over the fuckin' place has exhausted me."

Jessica felt his arms around her and she shivered as he pulled her down beside him. She wanted nothing more than to claw and scratch her way out of his grasp. The hairs on his forearms tickled her flesh as she stared off at the wall. His body melded into hers and she felt him smelling her.

She closed her eyes as she felt his heartbeat, once again, against her back. She wanted to forget that the man holding her in bed with the beating heart was a psychopathic killer that had mutilated and murdered so many people.

'_He hasn't killed you yet. Maybe he won't kill you if you fall asleep. He's been up forever. He's probably to tired to try anything yet. You can relax for now.'_

* * *

**I had so much trouble with this chapter. I'm not exactly happy with it. It ended up being more filler than what I wanted, but I hope you enjoy it either way :)**


	11. Apex Predators

**Chapter 11: Apex Predators**

**A lot longer chapter for you! I really hope you like it! I actually enjoyed writing this chapter a lot! There seems to be manipulation being thrown from both sides now and I like writing manipulation, it's always a fun time :)**

* * *

Mick's eyelids fluttered as sleep fell away from his tired face. The sound of soft snores danced in the air from beside him. The orchestra from the bugs rippled through the open window above the bed. The night animals made their wailing calls just before the sun was set to rise.

What remained of the night had been peaceful with his wild, new girl.

He smiled as he looked at the sleeping beauty beside him. The only way that she had been able to sleep comfortably with her facial wound was with her chest to his chest which had allowed him a spectacular view of her peaceful sleep. She'd slept against him like that for the remainder of the day and the rest of the night.

He'd woken up regularly throughout the day and the night checking on her to make sure that she was still with him. He'd been surprised that she hadn't tried to escape again.

He'd never had a woman sleep peacefully against his chest as if she were trying to soak in all of the warmth that his body provided. He could hear the small hitches in her breathing as she lay against him. The scene almost seemed surreal. He reached out to her and smiled as he closed the distance between them. He ran his hand through her dirtied, tangled blonde hair. The blood in her hair, the cut on her cheek, the M on her stomach, and the exhaustion on her face had been all of his doing and it brought a larger smile to his rested face. The bruises that had marked up her face had finally darkened and gave her the appearance of a battered wife and that thought forced his pride grow a bit larger.

A tingling sensation ran through him as he looked down her bruised face. She should be sleeping far away from him, as far away as the mattress would allow her, but here she was snuggled beside him.

All the other girls had screamed and cried until her broke their minds. This one had been different. She certainly was stronger than the others. She'd been held hostage by other men and then transferred into his _care. _She'd screamed and cried, but she still held conversations with him. She begged for her life but she had talked with him.

His favorites always talked to him, and there had only a few. Having a conversation was one of the driving factors in switching over from hunting animals to hunting tourists.

This girl was tougher than the others. She'd been able to survive when others had failed.

"You a tough ol' bitch I'll give ya that," he said to her as he thought about how she had tried to elude him.

He watched as she continued sleeping, the soft changes of her breathing and the occasional groan from a sudden movement that irritated her wounds were the only noises that she made beside him.

Mick's observant eyes trailed down to her hands. One lightly brushed against his stomach while the other rested under her still intact cheek. His girl had no idea, in her sleeping state, who she was cuddled up against.

He took in her hands. Blood and dirt still caked her fingers. Her hands were dangerous. She'd hit him with a fucking hammer and then shot down her rapist while he begged for her for his life. She slept innocently, but he knew inside of her there was a predator just like him. It would only take a bit of time to bring that out in her. He could tell that she had a killer instinct inside of her that could compete with his if he prodded her in the right direction.

He looked over her body. She was a looker. Big breasted blondes were his preferred choice when it came to women. He could wait to have her. It would be hard to suppress his carnal desires, but it would be worth it.

He'd never had to wait with one of his girls. If he wanted them, he'd just take them. He could wait for her to heal just a bit more before he took what was now his.

And he still had the other girl that Jessica was supposed to replace hanging around for when he felt a bit jumpy.

Mick watched as her eyelids fluttered as she began to stir from her sleep. He smiled as he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. A trick he had only performed when he had been whacked in the head. It was a first time to pretend that he was asleep in bed and he was curious to see what his green eyed girl would do. He strategically placed his arm over her stomach to make her work a bit harder to escape him.

All he had to do was wait for her to wake up and he could see what she would do when she thought he wasn't watching.

...

Jessica heard the bed creak as she was pulled out of her slumber. The sunlight was just beginning to peer through the open window above the bed she shared with a murderer. Her stained dress stuck to her dirty flesh as she slowly maneuvered herself on the bed.

She felt her hand against Mick's stomach and she quickly pulled it away from his presence. She took in his sleeping form; she froze in her place in an attempt to not wake him. Her captor looked peaceful in his sleep. He looked the part of the Good Samaritan while he slept, he looked innocent. The vulnerability that took over his face called out to her as she took in his appearance. His greying hair was messy and hung over his eyes as he slept which helped with the allusion of innocence. Small scars covered his suntanned skin that seemed to give him a story that a part of her, the morbidly sick part, wanted to know. Her eyes traveled away from his face slowly as she took in the small details that made up Mick Taylor's person.

Her pastel eyes took in the greying chest hair that poked through his black undershirt and moved to his muscled arms that held the traditional tattoos from his youth.

Her hand slowly moved from under the cover as she slowly rolled away from Mick. She allowed her hand to softly touch his arm. Her fingers gently wrapped around his wrist, his arm hair tickled her bloodstained fingers as she carefully lifted his protective arm off of her stomach. Her heart quickened in her chest as she kept her eyes on his face as she slowly distanced herself from him.

Jessica swallowed the worry that filled her fully rested body as she slowly pulled herself from under the thick, warm blanket that she and Mick had shared in the night. She kept her green eyes on him the entire time as she struggled to move without waking him up. Her heart beat like a tom tom in her chest as she edged further and further away from him.

She placed her feet on the cool hard wood floor and closed her eyes momentarily as relief washed over her. She'd been able to escape his grasp without him waking up, a feat that she had never been able to accomplish when she wanted to get out of bed while Brandon slept in.

Jessica turned her back to Mick, a mistake that caused her to miss his eyes opening to watch for her next movement. She took in the small bedroom that they had shared. A photograph of a middle aged couple with their prepubescent daughter looked back at her. A feeling of disgust came over as she looked down at the bed.

He'd killed the family and she had fallen asleep in their bed with their killer.

She'd slept peacefully beside their murderer.

'_You can't think like that. Thinking like that's going to fuck you in the end.'_

Her inner monologue was slowly and slowly trying to push her into becoming the perfect victim. She wanted to fight against him, but she knew that it would be more trouble than it was worth.

Jessica looked down at her dirty dress and shivered. She hadn't had a bath in days and she desperately needed to wash the blood and grit off of her body. She slowly made her way towards the old dresser in the corner and silently dug through the previous owner's clothes before finally pulling out an old pair of khaki pants and a simple blue and white striped blouse that were a size or two bigger than her own size.

She moved slowly towards the small bathroom that adjoined the master bedroom. She didn't notice Mick watching her as she slinked towards the white tiled bathroom. She walked with careful steps on the floor as she made her way to the small room where she could finally have a moment alone away from Mick Taylor to clean herself off and clear the dark thoughts that rattled in her mind.

The water was a relief as she stepped into the shower. Steam filled the room as the water beat down on her like a heavy rain. The water fell down her face and trickled down her chest, the blood that had stained her skin raced down her legs and towards the drain.

Jessica hissed in pain as the hot water burned the wounds that Mick had given her. She forced herself to brave through the pain. She had no more tears to cry and no more sobs to escape her. She had spent weeks mourning Brandon, days crying over what had been done to her at the hands of money hungry men, and hours sobbing over lost hope that came in the form of deviously clever Australian that used the elements against his victims.

She couldn't cry anymore. Her eyes only sparkled from the physical and mental pain that she was going through.

The sound of the bed creaking caught her attention and she hurriedly washed her body and her hair. The soap suds fell down her bruised and cut up body and disappeared into the drain carrying the dirt and dried blood along with it.

'_So much for enjoying the silence.'_

Jessica turned the water off and made her way out of the shower. She grabbed the white towel and lightly wiped the small drips of water off her bruised body and quickly wrapped it around her naked body as the cool air nipped at her flesh. Her wet hair fell in tangles down her back as she quietly opened the bathroom door.

The bed was empty. She looked to the floor and noticed that his flannel shirt that he had stripped off was missing.

"Mick," she called out softly as she pulled herself out of the bathroom and walked towards the bed.

There was no answer from her captor. She looked up at the window and sucked in the smell of the fresh morning air that was creeping in through the open screen.

"Ahh there ya are," Mick announced from behind with his wicked giggle.

Jessica jumped from his sudden proximity and turned quickly. Her hands instinctively held tight of the towel that covered her private bits from his eyes, even though he had already seen more of her than she had wished.

She stumbled backwards and onto the bed as he approached her like a hungry, dangerous predator. She shivered in fear as he crawled on top of her. She didn't struggle against him as he looked down on her and revealed his hunting knife to her once again.

"Now didn't I tell ya not to go runnin' out again," Mick asked as he glared down at her.

'_He's just fucking with you. Play along.'_

"I wasn't," she answered as she placed herself in a comfortable position underneath him. Disgust ate at the lining of her stomach as she felt his dirty body against her freshly cleaned body.

"I wake up and you up and disappeared," he stated, "I mean what's a man to think when his girl sneaks outta bed on him?"

"I wasn't," Jessica whispered as the towel loosened from around her, "I thought since I can't," she paused as she spread her legs wider and placed her knees beside his hips as she lay beneath him, "since we can't do anything yet, that the least I could do is clean up for you," she smiled up at him and licked her lips seductively, hoping that he was falling for her ploy, "You want a clean girl, don't you?"

She closed her eyes as she felt the towel moving ever so slightly against her flesh as he stood atop her. Silence filled the space between them until she was forced to open her eyes and look back up at him. She watched him in confusion with furrowed brows as he stared at her scar.

"Mick," she asked after the silence became unbearable. She couldn't make out what he was thinking as he took in her torn facial features courtesy of him.

He blinked as he looked away from her cut and smiled with yellowing teeth as he looked into her worried green eyes.

"Ya 'right," he asked in a tone that was softer than usual as if he were really interested about the state of the wound that he had gifted her with.

Jessica looked up at him with complete confusion in her pastel orbs. She watched as his eyes trailed to the cut on her cheek and she felt a strange sensation come over her at his strange change of behavior. The question seemed to reveal a human side to the monster that was sitting atop of her.

A strange feeling fluttered inside of her as she mulled over his simple question.

'_Maybe it's because you didn't escape? This really isn't him though. Stay on your toes.'_

She nodded softly and replied, "It's sore."

"Good," Mick answered loudly as his eyes sparkled in deviousness once again and a smile grew across his features, "cause daddy needs help getting' his old ass cleaned up. I think I need a sponge bath!"

She whimpered as he jerked her off the bed with a harsh tug.

"Come on now," Mick answered in excitement, "I got a really nasty case of dirt up me ass that needs to be taken care of!"

...

Jessica sat on the old couch as the old music box played a Patsy Cline record. The living room was littered with photographs of the previous occupants of the house that she and Mick resided in for the time being.

A shiver ran through her as she thought about the shower that she had to share with him. He'd told her that he'd never shared a shower with a girl before. She had to wash the blood, sweat, and dirt off of his hairy body. He had forced her to shave his growing facial hair, though she had to make damn sure she didn't chops off his out of style mutton chops or there would be a toe to lose for it. The shower was filled with inappropriate touching on his part and she had seen how excited just touching her had made him.

He'd promised her that once the time had come, she'd be screaming his name.

But it was over and they were now fully dressed.

Jessica looked through the glass doors that looked out at the backyard. A sandbox and wooden swing set sat in the far corner of the yard that the couple had brought in for their daughter when she was younger. The grass was dead in the yard and dust flew with each harsh gust of wind that blew by the old farm house.

As her eyes scanned the backyard, a small, white tennis shoe came into view and her heart fell as the body of the young girl came into view.

She looked around her for any signs of Mick. She could hear him fiddling with car outside, the sounds echoed in from the opened front door which she knew was a precaution Mick used to make sure she wouldn't escape without being heard.

Jessica slowly grabbed the throw blanket from behind the couch and made her way to the glass doors. She took a deep breath as she stepped out into the dead backyard. The dirt cracked beneath her bare feet as she made her way to the body of the young girl.

Her heart fell for the young girl as she looked down at her. The smell of death permeated the air around her. Blood stained her forehead where a bullet had sped through her forehead at top speeds. It had been a clean shot and she hadn't suffered. She'd been killed quickly; she probably hadn't even known what had hit her.

The girl's skin was dark from the beginning stages of decay. Her eyes were gone having been picked away from the resident bird population. Their talon marks had been left upon her cheeks as a sign of evidence that they had stolen her eyes balls right out of her skull.

As Jessica leaned over to the little girl to place the blanket over her dead body, she realized a harsh truth. The truth fell over her like cold water as she tucked the girl into the blanket, readying her to be buried in the ground eventually.

She wasn't going to survive being with Mick Taylor. Conversation and sex wouldn't keep her alive forever. If he could kill a little girl, he could kill her just as easily. She was disposable. Mick could kidnap anyone that stumbled into his trap. It had just happened to be her this time.

She had no idea how many other girls there had been. She knew she wasn't the first, and she knew she wouldn't be the last.

Her plans of escape disappeared out of her mind and were replaced by morbid thoughts of her death at Mick's hands.

Mick was going to kill her eventually. There was no denying that simple fact, but she could delay it with conversation and sex for a while.

She was just Mick's puppet on a string and to prolong her life she'd have to let him have total control over her strings, but there was still something that she could suggest to him that he could decide upon.

"There's a crocodile," she said as she heard Mick walk up behind her unannounced, "in Africa. They call him Gustave."

She turned to Mick slowly and looked him in the eyes; she felt hatred bubbling inside of her as the smell of the little girl filled the air. She wanted to put a bullet between his eyes for what he did to the little girl.

"It's rumored he's killed over three hundred people on the Ruzizi and a few others on Lake Tanganyika," she informed him, "He's killed men, women, children," she rolled her eyes and added with a soft chuckle, "tourists even! You're like Gustav, killing for the hell of it."

"What the blood hell ya getting' at Jessie," he asked in slight confusion as he looked down at the now covered young girl.

"And then there is Little Vitani," Jessica continued, ignoring his question, "She's the hyena that war lords fear. She's killed sixteen people in the last two years. You think Australia has wild animals, well let me tell you something Mick," she popped his name as she glared at him, "Your Australia doesn't have shit on my Africa. You're the predator that tourists fear, but I'm the predator that men that cast long shadows of terror fear the most."

Mick nodded at her insult. His fingers played at his knife as he asked, "Just so we're clear, what are you sayin' to me right now?"

"I'm saying that it would be more beneficial to you if you kept me alive and healthy," she informed him bitterly, "for as long as possible. What better way to catch your prey than by two apex predators working together," she smiled wickedly at him, "Tourists are more trusting of a nice couple than one single man with a truck."

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**So my favorite, favorite part of the first Wolf Creek film is when Lizzie goes and talks to Mick when he's "working" on their car and he asks if she's alright. I don't know why but that scene and that line have always stuck with me and I wanted to incorporate it in this story in a few places. **

**What do you think about Jessica's little plan? What's she up to?**


	12. I Fall To Pieces

**Chapter 12: I Fall to Pieces**

Jessica watched as the Outback passed her by. The sun gushed over her suntanned skin and she felt as if for just a moment she was free as the rays danced upon her flesh. The clean blue shirt and tan shorts made her feel like she was living a relative normal life considering the horrible company that she was forced to keep. The wind blew through her blonde locks as Mick drove his blue flatbed truck turned off of the dirt road and onto a paved road. He'd only left her for a few hours after she had suggested that they work together and now he was taking her on a little trip with him. She didn't try to escape the empty house when he left, the fear of him catching her and what violent, disturbed thing that he'd do kept her in the house.

There had been threats of dismemberment and death that he had made against her when he was in a particularly foul mood. He'd make jokes with her when he was in a good mood. She had done things for him that she had not wanted to do when he was in a mood that she feared more than his foul mood. He'd pat her head after she had performed that certain act on him as if she were a fucking lap dog. The thought made her sick. She'd fought off her previous attackers before they discovered that morphine turned her into a docile, emotionless ragdoll, but now she didn't even try to make a clean break when she was given the chance.

She felt as if Mick was slowly starting to trust her to not run off while she was slowly slipping into insanity knowing that she would most likely die without trying to make a run for it.

She could hear birds cawing in the distance as Mick hummed to the music on the radio. Norman Blake's _You Are My Sunshine _played on the radio and she smiled faintly at the few good memories that she had with her father in his home state. The faint smile remained on her face as the fresh air blew through the old truck that would always carry the faint smell of blood within it and tickled her nose. His arm stretched across the back of the seat and his fingers tangled into her pony tail absently.

If she wasn't being held captive by the man beside her, the scene could be one from an old movie or an old photograph that children stared at for hours wondering what life was like in those days or why a young woman was in a car with a much older, scruffy man.

Waking up beside him every morning to have his arm lying protectively over her stomach had become part of her morning routine. His touches still disgusted her, but she no longer openly shivered in fear. She'd resigned herself to the fact that he'd touch her where ever he damned well pleased and there wasn't much that she could do to stop him from doing so.

"Breaking news," the voice on the radio announced as the song ended, "it has just been announced that the search for Alabama Governor's daughter, Jessica Muldoon, has been put on hold until more evidence can be found. A spokesperson for the family has come on record saying that the trail has run cold."

Jessica world felt like it was slowly falling to pieces as the words registered within her mind. No one was looking for her. She knew that they had given up on her. She'd heard the stories about how many people actually survived when they were lost in Australia. She resigned herself to never being found and dying at Mick's hands.

And the part that sent shivers down her spine was that she wasn't as broken as she had thought she would have been over this new information.

"Now this is the place where I first found ya," Mick's voice announced, pulling her out of her hopeless thoughts.

Jessica turned away from the scenery of shrubs, small trees, and endless amounts of dirt to see a dusty tin can that doubled as a bar and gas station. A sign that said "Last Stop For 100 Miles" looked back at her in painted white letters as he pulled into the filling station. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about the people inside that would see her and realize that she was not with him of her own will.

Mick parked the truck in front of the tin can building and smiled at her as he watched her eyes sparkle.

"Now I gotta tell ya somethin'," he informed her and watched as her sparkling eyes deadened as she turned to give him her attentions, "Get all them ideas of saviors outta that toe head of yours. They aren't gonna help ya out."

Jessica lowered her eyes as his words registered within her. Her heart fell at the loss of freedom. She looked down at her bare legs in an attempt to keep herself from showing how disappointed she was.

"Everyone minds their own business 'round here, ya know?"

"I get it. You don't have to sell me. I get it," she answered flatly as she opened the truck door and jumped out of the truck with her head held high. She wasn't going to let him see how broken that fact alone had made her.

As they entered the small business, the smell of sweat and booze overpowered her senses as Mick lingered outside a moment longer, allowing her to have a few moments of peace from his overbearing presence. Her eyes took in the darkened room. Men, dressed in similar clothes as Mick, watched her carefully as she walked deeper into the joint.

Jessica could feel their eyes devouring her from her legs to her breasts. She watched as they quickly glanced at the wound on her cheek and then back to her chest or her legs. She could hear them snickering about her as she forced herself to pretend like she was interested in the old, out of date magazines and yellowed maps on the shelves.

"Ay girlie," one of the men yelled, "Yeah you!"

Jessica placed the magazine back on the shelf and looked over to Mick before giving the men the attention that they demanded. She looked at the man that had called her over and took in his dirty appearance and long face.

"What," she asked as she glared at the dirty men that all held smirks upon their faces as they awaited her reaction.

"Me mates and I," the man said with a snicker, "We was wonderin' if you'd be interested in a bit of a gang bang, princess."

She bit her lip at his words. Thoughts of what Jackie had done to her and what she had been made to do for Mick burned through her mind like wildfire. Anger bubbled inside of her. She felt her fingernails cut into the palm of her hand as she struggled to keep her cool.

"We'd be real gentle with ya, 'course," the man informed her with that same snicker.

"I should have known being drunk and lewd was primarily an Australian trait. I have a better idea big boy, how about you and your boys go out back and suck each other off! That would be a treat. There's a saying in Alabama that the only men that come from Australia are fags, hags, and Steve Irwin," she answered with a bitter, Stepford smile. She stood her ground as the leader stood up. She glared at him. She wasn't afraid of what this man would do to her.

"Ya think you a clever bitch," he asked as he glared down at her as he edged closer to her in an attempt to strike fear within her shorter frame. His friends chuckled softly under their breath as he tried to frighten her.

"Maybe not clever," she answered as she crossed her arms in defiance, "but I certainly smell better."

"Jessie," Mick's voice boomed through the door frame as he entered, his hat hid his eyes from the sunlight that shined down upon him, "What's goin' on in here?"

She turned to Mick and smiled as she watched the man hurriedly take his seat as if Mick Taylor was the alpha male of the group of Australian men. She'd seen it many times in Africa with certain animals. The males would back off when the alpha male made an appearance. She certainly felt like she was in the wild with animals as she stood in the dark, cool building.

"We were just talkin' to ya little mate here, Mick," the Aussie answered from his seat, "Ya got you a clever lil bitch, ay?"

Her heart sunk as the realization hit her. These men most likely knew what Mick did as a hobby and they weren't going to help her out of the situation. They probably sat around after the tourists were killed and talked about how the blood looked after a head was cut clean off.

Jessica watched as Mick smiled at the men and continued down the small aisles looking for something to snack on for the long drive back to the house in the middle of nowhere. His smile receded as he picked up a bag of corn chips and studied them.

"Ay Jess," Mick asked in a casual tone as if he were a regular guy instead of a deranged serial killer, "Ya want a nibble?"

She was taken by surprise by his sudden question. She watched as he held up a fruit pie for her to take in. She shook her head at the strange change in his personality.

"Is there cherry?"

Mick glanced back down at the sweets that were out of date and shook his head and replied, "They only got apple."

"Then no," Jessica answered in a flat tone as if it was a widely known fact that any flavor that wasn't cherry was inferior. She, momentarily, felt a sense of defiance come over her as those words danced across her lips. She smiled inwardly as she listened to him mumble under his breath about how women were picky bitches.

"No doubt ol' Mick has a type," an older, thicker man teased as he elbowed his friend in the side, "Big tittied blonde."

Jessica ignored the men and glanced back down at the maps. She could easily pocket one of them and use it for later. The thought passed as Mick glared down at her and she quickly moved away from the rack and closer towards the door.

She watched as Mick walked towards the men and laughed with them. She felt as if she were in the Twilight Zone as she watched the men joke at her expense with Mick leading the pack.

"She looks even better than the last," the older Aussie said as he trailed his eyes over her bare legs, "Easier on the eyes, ay?"

"Easier in other ways too I bet," another man joked, "You two do good together ay Mick?"

Mick's laughter jolted her forward. She really didn't want to hear these _jokes._ She wanted to get away.

"She's a scream-ah," Mick announced with an excited, childlike tone. He turned to see Jessica glaring at him and he smiled at her with a dark glint sparkled in his eyes as the men laughed at his veiled confession.

Jessica watched as the men snorted at that admission and the tickling sensation of doubt rippled through her. She couldn't tell if the men knew what he did to tourists or if they just thought he was a vulgar redneck like they were.

Her legs forced her out of the small store and she stood at the truck as she waited for Mick to come back. She looked up to the blue sky and felt a sob growing in her chest as she thought of how her mother must be worrying about her after the search had been called off and her father had went back to the states to continue his political career.

She was all alone in Australia and no one was looking for her.

...

Sally glared at Robert as he sat back in his seat as they were driven back to the airport. He'd been called back to the states to finish whatever political quest he was on. Anger bubbled inside of her chest as she thought about her daughter being left alone in the middle of nowhere with god knows who and how her father had used this as publicity.

"That's all Jessica is to you isn't she," she asked bitterly as she glared holes into his skull.

"What," Robert asked.

"This was just a political attempt on your part, wasn't it," she asked, her voice was almost a hiss, "That's all your daughter has ever been to you. She goes missing, you hop on the first plane here just so you look like the grieving father looking for his daughter."

"That is not even close to-"

"Don't lie," Sally ordered as she watched his eyes glitter with his own growing anger, "When the press found out about you having an African child out of wed lock you were quick to ask if she could come to see you just so you'd be viewed as the loving father that you have never been!"

"That's not true," Robert replied defensively, "I love Jessica!"

"You love her when there are cameras around," Sally informed him bitterly, "and the worst part is that she actually still thinks that you love her."

"What do you want me to do Sally?!"

"I want you to find our daughter, Robert!"

"What have I been doing, playing tennis with Beth?!"

"And now you are leaving," Sally argued.

"What am I supposed to do? I still have a job to the American people."

"It's fucking pathetic when your daughter's best friend is still looking," Sally replied sharply.

"What the hell does that make you," Robert asked bitterly, "I see you sittin' in this car beside me on the way to the airport. Are you telling me warthogs and meerkats are more important than your daughter, Sally?"

"I can't do anything here," Sally said in defense of herself.

"And you think I can?"

"You're in politics," she answered through freshly fallen tears, "You can find her."

He shook his head and whispered, "I can't do anything more here than what I've already done."

...

The hot wind blew through the rolled down window as Mick drove down the paved road. Jessica looked down the road and noticed an old car sitting on the side of the road. She turned to see Mick smiling as he slowed his truck.

"Mick," she whispered in worry as she pushed herself up in the seat to get a better view of the car that they were easing up on. She could see the license plate coming into view and the hood of the car up. She could see the outline of a thin man as Mick pulled up behind the car.

Mick chuckled as he put the vehicle in park. Jessica's heart quickened in her chest as she listened to his dark laugh that would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

"We don't have to do this," she whispered, "Not right now. I'm not ready. Not like this, Mick."

"You're ready," he informed her with a point blank tone, "Ya got to prove to me that ya got guts or else, ya know, I'm gonna have to spread your guts all over the place like ya forced me to do to your lil mate back there."

The color in her face faded as the threat registered in her mind. She had to do this if she ever wanted to see another sunrise. She took a deep breath and nodded as she opened the door to follow his lead. She needed to put a stop to her racing nerves if she didn't want to screw it up for Mick.

"Good 'ay," Mick announced as he pulled himself out of the truck and slammed the door behind him.

Jessica walked closely behind him as they edged closer and closer to the car. She could see the baggage from the window and could see that he was from Sydney. He wasn't a tourist, so maybe Mick would just help him and let him go free.

She watched as the man came into view with a large smile on his face. As Mick greeted him and shook his hand, she noticed the noticeably large pupils. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she took in the lanky man that reminded her too much of Brent. His hair was messy from the drive through the Outback.

She peered into the truck and she could see the traces of white powder on the passenger seat and she quickly looked to Mick who was talking with the young man that pretended as if he had no idea what was wrong with his car.

"I don't know what the hell happened," the boy admitted, "I was just drivin' along and the damned thing just started smokin'."

"Mick," she heard herself say with a shaky voice as she reached out to grab his elbow, "Maybe we should just go on home, huh? He looks like he's got this all under-"

"I could really appreciate the help, mate," the man announced as he slowly took in Jessica's fidgety stature.

"I don't think-"

Jessica felt the man's arm lurch around her wrist. She groaned from the sudden jerk as he pulled her against his chest and held a small, yet sharp, knife against her throat. She closed her eyes and seethed as she thought of how many times she had been held in place by a single knife.

"Shit," she whispered under her breath as her hand instinctively wrapped around his arm that held the knife against her throat, "Mick!"

"Shut up," the man demanded as he glared at Mick and placed the knife closer to her flesh, "I'm the one with the knife."

"Now look," Mick said as he tried on his best Good Samaritan act and held his hands up away from his hunting knife on his belt loop, "We were just tryin' to help ya outta here."

"Uh huh," the man said with a nod, "That's why you got the American's daughter with you! I mean it's kind of hard to not notice who she is."

"You know who I am," Jessica asked as the man pulled her towards the driver's side. She quickly stopped fighting against him as the hope of finally having someone get her away from Mick Taylor, no matter how high they were.

"Everyone knows your face sweetie," the man said with a chuckle, "and you're gonna bring me a lot of money."

She instinctively started struggling again. Men that wanted money had gotten her in this situation in the first place.

"Get in the fucking truck," he demanded as he shoved her inside. He hurried around the truck and smiled at Mick who was standing there as if he were dumbfounded, "Thanks for the girl, mate."

Jessica looked at Mick's smiling face in the rear view mirror as she was forced to drive away from him. She should have been excited for being able to finally get away from him, but she knew that this could only be the worst thing that ever happened to her.

"Keep drivin'," he informed her as he lit a cigarette and took a few puffs on it before throwing it out.

"You messed with the wrong man," Jessica whispered as she watched Mick getting into his truck, her heart rate accelerated as she watched his truck slowly picking up speed after them, "He's going to come after me! He's going to kill you because you took me. He's not going to let me-"

"You let me handle him," he demanded as he looked towards the horizon, "and you worry about watching the fucking road."

Jessica quickly glanced at the road and then back to the rear view mirror where his truck was slowly gaining on them. She instinctively pressed harder on the gas pedal as she watched the blue monster of a truck coming after them.

"Shit watch the road," she heard the man beside her scream just as a she turned away from the rear view mirror to see a large kangaroo in the middle of the road.

"Shit," she screamed as she swerved in an attempt to miss the animal.

The passenger side of the car hit the kangaroo at a high speed and sent the car sliding across the road. The car bounced and the steering wheel jerked out of Jessica's hands as the car skidded out of control and violently rolled three times through the ditch. A sharp pain rushed through Jessica just as she lost consciousness from the ferocity of the crash.

Glass busted and cut at their flesh as the car rolled for a second and third time before the car finally came to a stop in the ditch. The smell of oil and the sound of Mick's truck coming to a halt somewhere nearby pulled her out of her unconsciousness.

Jessica shook from broken nerves as she looked down at her bloodied body. Shards of glass covered her bare legs and mixed in with the blood that was pooling out of her thigh.

"Fuck," she cried as she looked down at the man's small knife that was now embedded into the fatty flesh of her thigh. Her brows furrowed as she tried to remove herself from the wrecked car with the knife still embedded in her thigh, but a pain rippled through her. Her eyes widened as she looked down at her dislocated knee and she groaned in pain, but did not allow tears to fall as she looked down at the misplaced bone.

"Hey," she heard Mick call down to her as he made his way down the ditch towards the wrecked car, "you still alive in there?"

"Mick," she called out as she waited for him to come towards her, panic rippled through her as she thought about what he'd do to her since she had been the one driving away. She knew that he would say that she had knowingly used the man to escape him.

Mick chuckled as he looked down on her bloodied face as she looked up at him like the broken doll that she was slowly becoming. He watched as the facial wound that had just started to heal bled freely down her throat and a hint of irritation rippled through him.

"For fuck's sake," Mick said in anger, "we just got that healin' too! I don't understand how one man can make such a big fuckin' mess!"

"Mick, my leg," Jessica said through pained breaths, "I can't move it."

Mick opened the door car door with a hard jerk to get a better look at the mess that the drugged up man had made for him to clean up. He looked over to the unconscious man in the passenger side and then down to her bloodied thigh.

"Now how the bloody hell that get there," he asked as he pointed to the knife dug into her thigh, "Now I'm gonna have to yank it out your leg and it's gonna hurt like a-"

"Just get it out," she demanded through gritted teeth as she watched his dirty hands touch her bloody skin. She held her breath and gripped her fingernails into the seat as he ripped the blade out of the fatty flesh of her thigh. She leaned forward as the pain gushed through her and she cried from the intensity. Blood poured out of her wound as Mick laughed at her and told her to calm down.

"Oh fuck," she cried as she leaned forward in the seat, "You fucking son of a bitch!"

Mick laughed at her pain fueled cussing as he pocketed the little knife. He watched as she fearlessly tried to hold in the pain of the new wound that bled all over the seat.

"That hurt," he asked as he took in her dislocated knee.

"Of course it fucking hurts," she cried out as he pulled her legs out of the car to get a better look at her misshapen leg.

"I got some bad news and some really bad news," he informed her gleefully as his fingers danced over her bloody flesh.

A stifled sob escaped her momentarily as she watched his hands touch her flesh. The pain tingled through her as she waited for him fix her up. She hated that she had to depend on him in this moment. She wished that she could just run from him, but the world was against her and there was nothing that she could do about it.

"It's not broken, but it's gonna be a bitch for you to get 'round for a few days," he informed her, "and the really bad news is it's really gonna hurt when I-"

His words faded as he quickly jerked her leg outwards and then shoved it forward. He laughed as Jessica hissed from the immense pain that she was feeling before the bone made a loud pop and fell back into its proper place.

"Oh fuck," she cried as she forced herself out of the car.

Mick watched her out of the corner of his eye as she slowly crawled away from the wreckage and spread down on the sandy ground with her eyes cast towards the endless blue sky where a single bird flew above them. He watched as she took a deep breath and ripped at the bottom of her shirt and tied it around her bleeding stab wound.

He momentarily took his eyes off of her battered body as he turned to the bloodied man in the car that had caused him all of these unforeseen troubles.

"Look at the mess this fucker made for me to clean up," Mick said and he looked down to her as he pulled the man out of the car, "Jesus Jess, your drivin' almost killed the bloody bastard!"

"I should have tried harder," she replied with gravel in her voice as she watched Mick throw the man over his shoulder, "What are you going to do with him, Mick?"

She watched as the devil carried the poor man towards his truck without answering him. She wished for a moment that he would just leave her there beside the wrecked car for the wild dogs to feast on. She really didn't want any part of his plans anymore.

"That's your first wounds of war, lil lady," he informed as if he were proud of the pain that she was experiencing as she sat on her ass in the sand. He held his hand out for her to take and she quickly took it with bitter anger in her eyes.

Jessica felt him jerk her up from the ground. A horrible tingling sensation rushed through her thigh and into her previously dislocated knee. She hissed as she tried to put weight on her wounded leg while Mick laughed at her pain.

"Good thing you are a tough old bitch or else I'd have to cut your fuckin' tongue off what with all the fuckin' screamin' and carryin' on you'd be doin' otherwise, ay?"

* * *

**I'm not so sure about this chapter. I don't know if I like it or if I hate it! I hope you like it because I spent forever on this one chapter! **


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